


i need to leave (but i want to stay)

by dustofwarfare



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Black Eagles Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Black Eagles Sylvain Jose Gautier, Consensual, Crimson Flower, Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, F/M, Face Slapping, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Black Eagles Route, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Black Eagles Route Spoilers, M/M, Masochism, Mind/Mood Altering Substances, Multi, Polyamory, Post-Canon, Praise Kink, References to Canon Events, Scars, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M, Voyeurism, a very long build up to an explicit threesome, banter as foreplay, bottom!Hubert, on brand, poly black eagles, sex while under the influence of herbal intoxicants, toppy!ferdinand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:42:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22574989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustofwarfare/pseuds/dustofwarfare
Summary: Princess,In Almyra, sharing a hookah is a sacred tradition between former warring factions to cement peace and allyship. The herbs are a special blend that encourage relaxation and good will. And no offense, Edelgard, but you could probably use both._______Or, Claude von Riegan sends a gift for the Emperor of Fodlan. It leads to an interesting evening for the Emperor and her two closest ministers.
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg/Hubert von Vestra, Ferdinand von Aegir/Edelgard von Hresvelg, Ferdinand von Aegir/Edelgard von Hresvelg/Hubert von Vestra, Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra, Minor or Background Relationship(s), minor byleth/jeritza, minor sylvain/felix, unrequited crushes from school
Comments: 85
Kudos: 260





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This references the events of [i want roses on fire](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22186537), but I'm going to call it an AU for one small change -- in this fic, Byleth is male and with Jeritza. Call this a New Fic Plus? :D? 
> 
> (Reading that one is not necessary, I think it's explained pretty well what happened here but the upshot is "Edelgard was Hubert's first sexual partner back at the Academy, she was curious and he serves her in all things.") 
> 
> Please note: **Chapter 5 of this fic contains people having sex under the influence of what is essentially FE3H-world marijuana** , and while it is definitely consensual, I want to point it out for anyone who might wish to avoid that sort of content. 
> 
> My thanks to [Naoto_Fuyumine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/naoto_fuyumine) for reading this over and for being a lovely person to chat FE3H with, and answering my DMs of "can they just top the fuck out of Hubert, what do you think" with such thoughtful answers :D
> 
> Title from _Fuego_ by Murder by Death, because I am predictable like that. Enjoy this and don't think too hard about it, okay, it's supposed to be fun.

“Tell me about your first,” Ferdinand says, propped up on one elbow and smiling down at Hubert. His hair is tangled and his eyes are sleepy, but if there is a trick -- beyond smothering him with a pillow or forcing him to ingest a fast-acting poison -- that will make Ferdinand fall asleep after sex, Hubert has yet to find it. 

His penchant for post-coital chatter is one thing. Hubert has learned to tune that out. It’s the incessant questions that demand a response that drive Hubert mad, so he says blandly, “Would you care for tea?” 

“Stop trying to poison me,” says Ferdinand. “Your first! Out with it, I told you mine.”

“Yes,” Hubert says, sighing. “Though I don’t recall asking for that information, you did indeed tell me.” He can’t help adding, “And it isn’t as if it’s not a common story, having Sylvain Gautier as one’s first. Quite a popular tale.” 

“You are _dreadful_ and I hate you,” Ferdinand says, cheerful as ever. “Now tell me, come along, Hubert.” He flutters his eyelashes, which -- not that Hubert will _ever_ admit to this -- is somewhat charming. As always, his next words ruin the moment. “You needn’t be embarrassed to admit it’s me, I’m flattered you saved yourself for your one true love.” 

Hubert stares up at the ceiling. “Let me have your pillow. The poison is too impersonal.” 

Ferdinand is demented, so he just laughs and strokes his fingers through Hubet’s dark hair. “You monster. Wait -- was _yours_ Sylvain, too?” 

“Hardly,” Hubert scoffs. “I have better taste than that.” Except his face heats because -- he has never told anyone about that night with Edelgard. Because of course she was his first. 

“Sylvain has a reputation for a reason,” Ferdinand says, lifting one bare, muscled shoulder in a shrug. “He’s fun. Or he _was_. Fraldarius is such a grim dastard, it’s possible he leached all the fun out of Sylvain - oh, no!” Ferdinand’s eyes go wide. “That’s what people are going to say about us. How charming I was, how my radiance has been dimmed by bedding down with the gloomy, horribly aloof Minister of the Imperial Household.” 

“No one is going to say that,” Hubert informs him. “Because no one finds you charming _or_ radiant.” 

“You do,” Ferdinand points out. 

“I am gloomy and horribly aloof, remember? It doesn’t take much to be charming _or_ bright around me.” 

Ferdinand laughs outright and kisses him. “You’re charming.” 

“Now you’re just being deliberately obtuse,” Hubert huffs. 

“In your own way,” Ferdinand amends. “Perhaps knowing every poison and six ways to kill a man with a twig and an empty vial aren’t considered charming by some people, but lucky for you, it really works for me.” 

“Lucky for me, indeed.” Despite the sardonic tone of his voice, Hubert actually means that; it would have never occurred to him that at one point in his life he would be willingly lying naked in bed with Ferdinand von Aegir, but here he is, and if Ferdinand would just be _quiet_ , Hubert wouldn’t even mind. 

“So,” Ferdinand continues, swatting him lightly on the shoulder. “Out with it. Who plumbed the depths of Hubert von Vestra before I swept you off your feet with my wit and beauty?” 

“When did that happen? Was I asleep?” 

“No, evil never _does_ sleep, or so they say. Why are you being so reticent about this? You have to know that I would never tell anyone something told to me in confidence.” Ferdinand places one hand on his chest. “You have my _word,_ Hubert, this goes no further. I am simply curious, and wish to know about you.” 

He’s so _earnest._ Hubert cannot fathom why, when his black heart decided to beat for someone other than Lady Edelgard, it chose _Ferdinand._ Not that he ever would have imagined himself in a relationship, but if he had, he would have imagined it with someone who walked in the dark and shadow like he did. Ferdinand can’t even make his way across Hubert’s bedchamber at night without tripping over furniture. It’s rather endearing. 

“It is not that I am hiding some tragic love story or embarrassing story of ineptitude,” Hubert says. “But you know the person in question, and I have never spoken of it to anyone, as I do not know if they are comfortable with my divulging that story. Even if, of course, I know you have more good sense than to gossip about it.” 

“By the Goddess,” Ferdinand breathes. “Dorothea owes me a bullion, I _told_ her I was right about you and Edelgard!” 

Hubert hisses, “So we are clear, von Aegir, I know more than six ways to kill a man and I don’t even need a pillow, poison, _or_ a twig.” 

“Oh, do calm down, I’m not going to _tell_ her, did you not hear what I just said? It’s just that Dorothea swore a blue streak that you would never _sully your goddess_ that way and I said, _he would if she asked him to --_ because I am certain that’s how it happened, yes?” 

“Yes,” Hubert admits. “You ascertained the truth of that quite quickly.” It shouldn’t be a surprise, Ferdinand is rather clever about other people. It’s part of why he’s so good at his job, and it is a talent Hubert has come to both appreciate and rely upon over the years. 

“Well, it only makes sense,” Ferdinand says, drawing lazy circles on Hubert’s bare chest with his fingers. “You only had eyes for Lady Edelgard, and you were far too dour to be getting laid on a regular basis.” 

Hubert snorts a laugh before he can stop it. “And I’m not, now?” 

“What? Dour?” Ferdinand drums his fingers on Hubert’s chest, right over his traitorous heart that, somehow, he’s wormed his way into. “Well, you are on occasion, but not quite like you were at school.” 

Most people aren’t planning a revolution to overthrow a goddess in between weeding the garden and doing their homework. “Is that because I’m getting laid on a regular basis?” 

“It certainly does not hurt your disposition, no.” Ferdinand laughs. “Did you enjoy it?” 

“My dour disposition? Immensely. Why do you think I still have it?” 

“Clever, clever, but you know what I mean.” Ferdinand, because he’s Ferdinand, adds magnanimously, “You needn’t go into details.” 

Hubert rolls his eyes. Ferdinand _loves_ details. “You don’t mean that.” 

“No, but it seems the thing to say. I cannot help it, Hubert! I have no designs on the Emperor but I _do_ have them on you, and I, ah.” Ferdinand gives him a winning smile, the one that charms everyone from Sreng dignitaries to disgruntled former Kingdom nobles to Hubert himself. “I would like to know which of us is better at pleasing you, myself or Lady Edelgard.” 

Hubert groans. “I rather expected you would ask that. And the answer, since you did ask, is _her_.” 

“Oh, you dastard!” Ferdinand gives him a little smack on the side of his face. It makes Hubert suck in a breath, and Ferdinand smiles, slow and wicked. “If you tell me she’s the person I can thank for how much you like being smacked in the face, I shall send her flowers every day for the rest of her reign -- may it be long and glorious.” 

“Longer, I daresay, than you shall walk this earth if you breathe one word to her of this conversation,” Hubert says, without any real heat. “Yes, she did, if I remember, strike me.” His face heats a bit, as they’ve never spoken of Hubert’s masochistic streak in bed unless they’re in the heat of things. “It was as you said. Lady Edelgard asked for some experience in the ways of -- such things -- and I gave her assistance. It was an enjoyable experience, but one we never repeated.” 

He remembers it, of course. Edelgard, eyes glittering, sitting on top of him and talking about the war they were soon to start. He’d promised to fuck her on the ruined throne of their enemies, but that had, of course, not happened. After the final battle, Hubert had been too busy overseeing the stragglers from Rhea’s army -- the ones who refused to surrender and who needed to be dealt with, swiftly and silently, before they could gather an impassioned rebellion out of what was left. 

“I see.” Ferdinand studies him. “You comported yourself well, I am sure.” 

“Of course,” Hubert says, tilting his chin up. “I would hardly fail Lady Edelgard in any task to which I was assigned.” 

Ferdinand smiles. “I confess, Hubert, I find the idea of that very...well, let’s say I might not have any interest in taking Lady Edelgard to bed, myself, but...ah, the idea of watching you pleasure her is quite. Quite something.” He presses closer to Hubert, so Hubert can feel how his cock is growing hard against Hubert’s hip. As if his comment was so subtle, it required further explanation. “And before you mock me for my interest, recall what you did when I told you about Sylvain.” 

“Besides mock you for your poor taste, you mean?” 

“After that,” Ferdinand says, beginning to move with a bit more purpose, rubbing himself lazily against Hubert’s hip. “You fucked me so hard I had difficulty mounting my horse -- among other things -- for a week.” 

Hubert tangles his fingers in Ferdinand’s hair and tugs, hard. “Perhaps that was merely my possessive streak.” 

“Perhaps,” Ferdinand says, slyly. “Or perhaps you enjoyed the thought of me being pleasured, as I enjoy thinking of you that way.” 

In all honesty, it was probably both. It isn’t as if Sylvain Gautier is a threat -- no, he’s firmly under Felix Fraldarius’s heel, it seems to Hubert -- but Hubert cannot help glaring at the man every time he appears. He also cannot say, with any real truth, that he doesn’t enjoy the thought of him and Ferdinand tangled up together in bed. In a purely aesthetic sense, of course. As if Hubert has ever cared for aesthetics, before. 

“After we -- afterward. She mentioned that I was often watching you. At the time I scoffed and dismissed her, for I rather thought you were a traitor whose death I would be responsible for before the term ended.” 

“Ah, to hear my beloved speak so about the halcyon days of our shared past,” Ferdinand says in his best courtier voice, as if he’s reciting romantic poetry -- which Hubert knows, because he did it once, despite Hubert lobbing a low-level spell at him to make him stop. It hadn’t worked. Ferdinand just wrote another poem about it, complaining about what a devil of a time he had finding a word to rhyme with _miasma._ “And people say you have no sense of humor.” 

“Because I do not, and I wasn’t joking,” Hubert tells him. “I thought you would be one of the first to abandon us, seeking any opportunity to improve your station and triumph over Lady Edelgard.” 

Ferdinand winces, placing a hand over his heart. He even tosses his hair, the melodramatic dastard. “I should challenge you for that, von Vestra! My loyalty is unwavering and always has been.” 

Theatricality aside, Hubert doesn’t want Ferdinand to think he still regards him that way, because nothing could be further from the truth. Ferdinand’s loyalty and relentless optimism was the thing that drew Hubert to him in the first place, replacing his previous suspicion with respect and, later, affection. 

Hubert takes Ferdinand’s hand and squeezes it. Not one for sentiment, he says simply, “I know. I was wrong.” 

“Mm.” Ferdinand shifts so he’s straddling Hubert, his hair everywhere, his hard, muscled cavalryman’s body on full display. He’s scarred, as they all are, since healing magic could only do so much in the heat of battle. It only adds to Ferdinand’s appeal, if you ask Hubert. “Nothing gets me going quite as much as hearing you say those three little words to me. Say them again, Hubert. Say _I was wrong._ ” 

“Make me,” says Hubert, and then hisses as Ferdinand slaps him across the face. “Make me _say_ them, not _make me laugh_.” That is a lie, of course, the smack was as delicious as Ferdinand's always are. Hubert's cock is growing hard, as any sane man’s would, having this beautiful creature astride him. 

“You asked for it,” says Ferdinand, smirking down at him. He delivers a far more stinging slap to Hubert’s face, and laughs when it gets a loud moan out of Hubert, his hips pushing up as the pain shudders like fire through him. “When you mention school, I remember how, if you told me that one day I would be naked in your lap, feeling your cock go hard while I slapped you...the only part I would have believed was the part where I was slapping you.” 

Hubert gasps out, “that is one more fact than I would have believed,” and then pulls Ferdinand down to kiss him. 

“Now, since you’re in a better mood,” Ferdinand says, a short while later, once he’s taken Hubert’s cock and starts to ride him nice and slow, “Do tell me all the details.” 

And Hubert, face still stinging from the slap, cock buried in Ferdinand’s tight heat while Ferdinand moves on top of him with all the grace and poetry in his soul, starts to talk. 

***

“You know, Hubert. You could, if you wanted,” Ferdinand says, afterward, curled up behind Hubert. It’s how Hubert insists they sleep, so that Hubert can be facing the door on the outside of the bed. Just in case he is needed. 

That is frustratingly vague. “Could, what? Go to sleep? I doubt it, you’ll need to stop talking for me to do that.” 

“Nonsense. You have fallen asleep before while I was talking to you, do not think I have forgotten your nap in the middle of my recitation of Bernadetta’s newest novel.” Ferdinand bites him gently on the shoulder. “You could -- ah, I feel as if I cannot use the common vernacular when speaking of the Emperor, but...you could be with her, if you wanted. I would not mind. Provided I could watch.” 

Hubert does wish to discuss this. He’s drowsy, relaxed, sated enough to want to get some rest before a pre-dawn appointment that he’s going to have to attend without anyone -- even Lady Edelgard -- knowing about it. Luckily, once he finally does fall asleep, Ferdinand sleeps like the dead. 

“I do not have a burning desire to fulfill a promise made in the heat of passion, when I do believe if Lady Edelgard wished me to do it, she would have mentioned it.” Hubert does not know how to explain that his interest in Lady Edelgard has never been in her body, but her ideals, her determination and her vision. 

It is as satisfying to kill for her, to fight for her, as it was to make her come. But he does not say that, for even Hubert knows how that will sound.

“Would she, though? Perhaps she is as cripplingly unable to talk about what she wants as you are, Hubert.” Ferdinand kisses his shoulder. “I adore you, but I am not wrong.” 

Hubert scoffs, but Ferdinand is not wrong. A lifetime of dedication to assisting one person achieve her goals, often through less-than-honest means, does not make it easy for him to be forthright about wanting something. It’s only recently that he’s admitting to wanting anything for himself at all, and that person is behind him and biting gentle marks into his bare shoulder. 

“I think you misunderstand. I went to bed with Lady Edelgard to assist her in understanding the appeal and lure of physical desire, so that she would not make irrational decisions based on its sway. We had no great enduring passion for each other. Yes, it was enjoyable as such things are, but --” here, Hubert falters. 

_It is not like it is with you._

“There was not years of built-up sexual tension disguised as animosity, like with us?” Ferdinand asks, astute as ever. 

“The animosity was real, I assure you,” Hubert says. “I am not gifted enough to hide it.” 

“Well.” Ferdinand huffs a warm breath of laughter against Hubert’s shoulder. “Maybe not, but you still wanted me.” 

“Eventually,” says Hubert, and flashes a smile only because Ferdinand can’t see it. 

Ferdinand retaliates by biting his shoulder a little harder, but Hubert never minds that. “You are a proper knave, Hubert von Vestra, you really are. And you cannot deny our vigorous banter has ever been a part of our foreplay.” 

Hubert can deny _anything_ , which he is not sure Ferdinand has truly come to understand, yet. “You are, at times, not lacking in the discipline of witty repartee. There are times you are almost clever enough for your wit to match mine, yes.” 

“Stop,” Ferdinand says, dryly. “The compliments. I might _die_.” 

“I sincerely doubt that. My point is that whatever happened with you and I, and to be honest there are times I am still not sure what that is, how, or if I wanted it to happen at all --” 

“Hubert, methinks thou doth protest too much, darling.” 

Obviously, but like Hubert is going to _admit_ that. “--but it did happen, and here you are. I enjoyed serving Lady Edelgard in that fashion, but I did not find myself overcome with passion and fucking her against a wall as I did with you.” 

“Mm. Still my favorite memory, I daresay I will get hard now every time I smell your coffee, which is at least one benefit for me since I cannot stand the stuff.” 

Hubert rolls his eyes in the dark. “Never say I have not given you anything, then. May we sleep now? Have I assured you that I am not going to leave you in the lurch to rekindle one night of physical comfort I shared with Lady Edelgard?” 

“What? That is not -- I am not concerned about that!” Ferdinand says, quickly. “Is that what you think I worry about?”

Honestly, he didn’t _think_ so, but who knows? Hubert worries, in the private places he shares with no one, that Ferdinand will grow bored with him and his scheming, his acerbic tongue, the fact he will murder and maim and torture for the Emperor until he takes his last mortal breath. Even after the birth of a glorious new dawn, there will still be the eventual nightfall; and that is where Hubert must walk, always, to ensure what they have done will last. 

Perhaps Ferdinand worries the same, that Hubert will grow tired of his endless optimism, his garrulous nature, his determination to live always in the brightest light of day. Maybe that is the sort of thing all people worry about, when it comes to those with whom they share their heart. 

“I confess it is too late for me to pick apart why you are still talking about this, unless something as simple as jealousy is at the heart of it.” 

“It is not that, I assure you. I simply wanted you to know that I do not doubt your loyalty, and if you wish to, ah, fulfill that promise to Lady Edelgard to, um, take her on the, ah, how did you put it…?” 

“Go to sleep,” says Hubert, shoving his face in his pillow. “Before I murder you.” 

“Throne of ruin!” Ferdinand finishes, triumphant. “Also, may I say, you are far more poetic than I gave you credit for.” 

“No, you may not say that, because it is not true.” Hubert closes his eyes. It does not, unfortunately, have the desired effect of making Ferdinand do the same with his mouth. 

“Fine, fine. I just meant that I trust you, and I have always understood that I will share you with her.” Ferdinand’s voice is drowsy, his breath warm against Hubert’s back. “It is late, you are correct. I do thank you for telling me, though, and I swear on my honor as a von Aegir that I will not divulge that you did so, to anyone. Not even Dorothea, even if I could buy several new warhorses with what she owes me for being right.” 

Hubert sighs, but he catches Ferdinand’s hand and squeezes it. “You may show your appreciation by sleeping.” 

There’s a quiet huff behind him, and then silence. 

It’s too late for Hubert to get any real rest, so he lies there, dozing on and off, until he hears the clock strike three. Then he disentangles himself and gets up, going to wash and dress for his appointment. 

Ferdinand does not stir. Hubert watches him for a moment, the moonlight spilling over his copper-bright hair and that generous, infuriating mouth slightly parted in sleep. His eyelids are moving. Hubert wonders if Ferdinand will remember what he’s dreaming about when he wakes up. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two idiots love each other, okay.

“If we could get the Almyran king to sign this treaty, it would make these trade negotiations so much less exhausting,” Lady Edelgard says, tapping her quill on the table. “Instead, I have yet another letter from him asking for concessions that are either ridiculous or involve --” she flips the paper and huffs. “Aerialists? Does that man take nothing seriously, even his own throne?” 

She never calls him _Claude,_ Hubert notices. Just _the Almyran king,_ or _the King of Almyra_ or _that man._ “He does owe us a boon, considering you spared his life.” Hubert would not have, and still isn’t convinced it wasn’t a mistake. He bears no ill-will toward Claude von Riegan, other than the general disdain Hubert feels for generally everyone as a rule, but he does not like the frown between his lady’s brow and that it is von Riegan who put it there. 

He opens his mouth to ask about the aerialists, then changes his mind. Nonsense meant to distract; he won’t give von Riegan the satisfaction. 

“Yes. Perhaps we can send our return missive with someone from his old house at the academy -- Lorenz, perhaps?”

“My lady, I am failing in my duty if you need to go to such lengths to assassinate someone,” Hubert says dryly. Even he, as concerned with his own house and his own interests as he’d been at school, knew how Claude and Lorenz rubbed each other the wrong way. 

Lady Edelgard gives an inelegant snort. “Which one will end up assassinated, that is the question.” 

“Both, if we’re lucky. I suppose a good murder-suicide is nothing if not tidy,” Hubert drawls, and she smiles briefly at him before going back to her paperwork. 

If there is one thing they’ve always shared, despite an unwavering faith in her ambitions, it’s a fondness for gallows humor. And Lorenz has shown nothing but enthusiasm in working to improve the world after the war, working tirelessly on behalf of the common people in former Alliance territory. Still, a brief bit of levity is always welcome. 

Hubert watches Edelgard work, stirring his coffee, filled with his usual affection for his lady. He loves her as fiercely as he always has, and his pride in her is a thing that burns inside him like his magic, that gathering of energy right before he casts it at a foe. He would lay his life down for her, _has_ risked his own a thousand times and continues to do so in ways she might not even know about, but his devotion does not feel the same as what he feels for Ferdinand. 

He wonders if, as Ferdinand said, he _is_ protesting too much. Perhaps feelings are simply different for different people. As this is the first time he’s had them for more than one person, it is something of a learning experience. 

“You’re staring, Hubert. Did I forget how to spell something? I do always mix up the _I_ and _E_ in _Riegan_.” She wrinkles her nose and looks down at the parchment, then back up at him. Expectant. 

They are well-attuned to each other’s moods, at this point. Hubert sips his coffee, steels himself and says carefully, “I should confess something, my lady.” 

“Confess? You?” She blinks. “Are you feeling all right?” 

“Yes, thank you, I am quite well. It is only that I have spoken of something, perhaps, that I should not have. To someone.” He cannot help feeling guilty, though to his recollection, neither he nor Edelgard have spoken about that night since it happened. 

“Well.” Edelgard’s mouth draws into a hard line, but her eyes are sparkling. “We can’t have the Minister of the Imperial Household, the Left Hand of the Emperor... _telling_ someone _something_. Off with your head. Fetch Aymr, I’ll do it myself.” 

“Stop trying to get out of writing your letter. And we abolished the death penalty,” Hubert chides, but there’s a hint of a smile, there and gone and so quick he’d deny it if asked. “You have been spending too much time with the Prime Minister.” 

“That’s rich, Hubert, coming from you.” Her expression eases into one of obvious fondness. “I’m assuming that’s who you are speaking of, yes? Ferdinand?” 

“Yes. I discussed something with him that perhaps you might wish I had not,” Hubert says, the tips of his ears turning red. He straightens in his chair and meets her gaze with his own, even though he’s a bit flustered to speak of this to her. “It involves our night together, several years ago. At Garreg Mach.” 

The implication is clear. It remains to be seen if she’ll let it go, or demand he say it outright. 

“Oh,” Edelgard says, waving the quill. “I had assumed you already told him. It is customary to tell one’s partner about one’s past partners, isn’t it?” Edelgard glances at him -- and puts a hand to her mouth to hide a smile at his expense. “Hubert, I have never in the whole of my life seen you blush.” 

He is almost certain that is not true. “The subject is rather indelicate and of a personal nature,” Hubert reminds her, stiffly. “I detest talking about those sorts of things, you know that.” 

“Apparently not,” she says, and then, she _laughs_. It’s such a surprising and girlish sound, Hubert almost drops his coffee. “Let me guess, did Ferdinand immediately demand to know which of us was better?” 

Hubert resists the childish urge to kick her ankles under the table. “Yes.” 

“And what did you say?” 

“That you were,” Hubert answers, promptly. 

“I hereby stay your execution, and bestow upon you all the riches of the Empire,” Edelgard intones, teasing. 

Even though she is teasing him, Hubert cannot deny that it is good to see her this way. For the last five years it has been bloodshed and terror, determination and the weight of her duty worn heavier than any robe or crown could ever be. “I need not riches but I am pleased to still have my head. As it happens, I do trust Ferdinand not to run his mouth.” 

“I would imagine if anyone can be trusted when it comes to Ferdinand and his mouth, it is you,” she says sweetly.

Hubert, after choking on his coffee, dumps the rest of it on her parchment. 

She shrieks; this is the most childish they’ve been in years, and despite his lingering embarrassment it is rather enjoyable. “Hubert, you did _not_ just do that!” 

“You would have had to rewrite it anyway. You did, in fact, misspell _von Riegan,_ ” he says, smugly, though of course it is he who cleans up and fetches her a new sheet of paper.

“Would anyone believe it, if they saw us acting like children out of the nursery,” she says, shaking her head. “How did you manage to utterly ruin that letter and not get any coffee on my dress?” 

“My lady, please,” Hubert says, bowing neatly. “I’ve been wreaking havoc and mayhem in small confined spaces since I was old enough to walk.” 

“I remember.” She taps her quill, staring momentarily off at the fire burning cheerfully in the heart. “So many of my memories from that time in my life are full of apprehension and fear, but that particular memory is not, and I thank you for that.” 

He inclines his head and accepts the compliment. “I will always do whatever you ask of me, my lady. You know that.” 

“I do, of course.” Edelgard’s violet eyes are clear and sharp. “Back then I was afraid that attachment to anyone -- even something as fleeting as physical attraction -- would mean the end of my ambitions. That I could not trust anyone but you. And yet, after these last five, almost six years...I have learned that the support of others is beyond valuable, and that my fear in wanting it came from so many years in that cellar, calling out in the dark and having no one answer.” 

His heart aches for her and the child she once was, held prisoner and afraid. _They will pay for what they did for you. They are even now paying for it, at the end of the professor’s blade and the Death Knight’s scythe._ “I will always answer your call, my lady. No matter how vast the darkness may be.” That is why he does the things he does, is it not? To be the one thing she can trust in the dark? 

“Yes. And I am more grateful than I can say for that. Hubert, do you think we would have won, truly won, without the others? The professor, the Black Eagle Strike Force?” 

Since it is a serious question, Hubert gives it serious thought before answering. “I would have seen you victorious even if I had to slay every last one of our classmates, but I am glad it did not come to that and I...I believe their support and morale was invaluable. Perhaps not in winning the war itself, there is no doubt in my mind or heart that we would have prevailed, even if it had been just you and I breaking the world. But in putting it back together again, I confess I did not see the benefit of having such strong and committed allies.” 

“That was rather sweet, Hubert,” she teases, but nods -- he can tell he has pleased her, though it is only the truth. “I always knew the real work would come after the last battle was won, but I did not know that I would need my closest friends, my _family_ , here with me when the smoke cleared. If we had stood alone in triumph, I think -- I think I would not like the person I became. Or the world I would have created.” 

“I did not think it then, and I do not think _now_ , that you could not have borne this weight on your shoulders if you had to. But I do believe it is better to share it among the rest of us.” He feels a bit awkward saying these things, though he supposes if the choice is between praising their allies or talking about the one night they nearly had sex, he’ll go for the former. 

“Your faith in me is truly a gift, and I only hope that the world I am trying to make is worth both your devotion and the trust of everyone who stood and fought beside me. Were it not for all of you, I might have been like Dimitri. Wanting only vengeance, and to burn the world into ash in my rage.” Her gaze sharpens. “For I have always been just as angry as he was, and for a time, I had to hide it, too.” 

“Even so, my lady, there is a difference,” Hubert points out gently, “Dimitri was concerned only with his own guilt, his own ghosts. Your concern was for the world.” 

“You might be a bit biased there, my friend,” Edelgard says, and glances down. Hubert does not know, precisely, what Dimitri was to her. He had the potential to be a friend, a sibling, but was something less than either of those things. There is something about the way she speaks of Dimitri that makes Hubert wonder if she might have wished for him to be something else entirely, in a world where they were free of the terrible things that made them who they were.

Hubert was there when Edelgard killed him. Hubert was the one who held her that night when she cried in his arms. 

_I know how he felt, Hubert. I know that rage, that hopelessness. I felt it every day in the cellar. Drowning in darkness with no way out._

The difference was, of course, Eldegard found her way out. Dimitri did not. Hubert shed no tears for the man himself, but he held Edelgard close and stroked her hair, and said nothing while Edelgard sobbed. In some ways, that moment was more intimate than their one night together at the Academy. And he has never told a soul about it, even Ferdinand. 

It wasn’t for the mad, delusioned King of Faerghus that she’d cried; but a small friendly boy with a kind smile, who gave her a dagger and the idea that maybe she was not as trapped by circumstances as she’d always thought. 

“Well,” Edelgard says, turning her attention back to the parchment. “Since someone ruined my letter, I suppose I should start another one. I would make _you_ write it, but Hubert, your penmanship resembles a hastily-scribbled and impossible to read ransom note.” 

“You wound me, my lady. No one has ever failed to respond to my ransom notes, which I assure you, are never _hastily_ conceived nor written.” 

Edelgard shakes her head at that. “The earlier letter referenced the importance of forging strong relations between our nations, but perhaps I should just make it short and sweet and remind the king how I didn’t take his head in Derdriu and he owes me a favor, so if he could please make his treaty demands more reasonable, that would consider his debt repaid.” She huffs. “An _aerialist_. Honestly.” 

“Send it along with some exotic spices,” Hubert suggests. “I can bring you some to include with the missive, if you like.” 

“He’ll think it’s poison.” She raises her eyebrows. “It will be poison, won’t it.” 

Hubert shrugs. “Installing our own puppet leader in Almyra would facilitate trade long before dealing with von Riegan. He’s insufferable. But he is not stupid, and there are ways of scanning for poisons that he would probably know, considering how fond he is of it himself. Perhaps we should train an assassin as an aerialist, given this fondness he has for them, and send them to Almyra.” 

“Do we _have_ any assassins that would be good aerialists?” Edelgard asks, then scowls. “This is why he’s insufferable, now look, I’m distracted by inanity. Hmmm. He’s insufferable but not stupid….” She snaps her fingers and aims a saccharine smile at him. “Perhaps I should send _you_ , Hubert, as that does sound like your type.” 

“If you send me on a honeypot mission, my lady, you deserve to have your empire crumble into ashes, for the poor strategy alone.” He clucks his tongue. “The professor taught you better tactics than _that_. My unit type is not suitable for seductive maneuvers.” 

She laughs again. “I do not recall having any complaints, and I do believe our Prime Minister would disagree with you, as well.” 

“He does that, frequently. He would argue about whether or not it was raining while standing outside in a deluge, if given the chance.” Hubert is slightly abashed to hear the edge of fondness creep into his tone. 

He doesn’t care if people know about the two of them, he would just prefer it if they thought Hubert was doing something nefarious; like, say, blackmailing Ferdinand, or using some magic to compel him. Hubert has an image to maintain. 

Edelgard keeps writing, every so often reading a passage and asking for word choices, or alternate ways of saying _do not make me send an army to convince you_ in ways that would not start an international incident.

“You know, I am fine that you told Ferdinand about our evening together,” she says, apropos of nothing, once she’s checked the letter and assured herself that she did not spell Claude’s name incorrectly. “And I am happy for the both of you.” Her voice sounds a tad wistful. “I did tell you that I wanted you to have something for yourself. You deserve that more than anyone.” 

Hubert pretends he is not flushing with pleasure at the remark, and reaches out for the letter. “Allow me to post that for you.” 

She pauses before handing it over. “Hubert. Just post _the letter._ No poison. Promise me.” 

“I promise I will not send poison with the letter,” he agrees, and takes it from her. “This time.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're going to have to forgive the slight exaggeration at how much vapor/smoke the hookah would produce, pls, you know how careful Hubert is. 
> 
> Also idk how you make a dragon-shaped hookah so subtle that you don't notice it is, in fact, a dragon, but...
> 
> This whole thing, I claim artistic license. I own my ridiculousness.

They are celebrating the successful treaty with Almyra,  _ finally. _

It certainly took long enough, but the treaty has been inked and signed, sealed and delivered - all without Hubert needing to poison anyone. And no aerialists, though he’s still not entirely sure what that was about. 

What there  _ is,  _ however, is a delegation; sent to return the signed treaty and bearing gifts for the Emperor of Fodlan. For the most part it is the usual fare of tea and spices and other goods, but there is one gift that is marked for Edelgard specifically. 

It is an elaborate hookah, made of glass, intended to ease the harshness of the smoke by passing it through water first. He’s also included a packet of herbs, and a letter addressed to Edelgard. 

_ Princess, _

_ In Almyra, sharing a hookah is a sacred tradition between former warring factions to cement peace and allyship. The herbs are a special blend that encourage relaxation and good will. And no offense, Edelgard, but you could probably use both. Maybe one day, we’ll be able to do this in person, forging a strong relationship between Fodlan and Almyra. Until then, please take this as a hand of friendship. Let me know if you like the herb mix I’ve curated, and hey, maybe I’ll send you some more.  _

_ (If you can’t figure out how the hookah works, you can ask Sylvain. Trust me, he knows how to use it.)  _

_ And no, Hubert, I promise the herbs aren’t poisoned.  _

The note is signed simply,  _ Claude _ . 

“I knew you should have taken his head,” Hubert grouses, after reading the note. “The gall of that impudent man for suggesting Her Majesty smoke a  _ hookah _ .” 

Ferdinand laughs, studying the object. “Oh, come now, he is not wrong. The world is indeed a better place if all of us take care of ourselves and relax on occasion.” He is dressed in his imperial finery, and despite having willingly and cheerfully given up his noble title, he looks every inch the duke he would have one day become. “The deep breaths required for this activity surely cannot hurt!” 

“I do not need to inhale herb-infused smoke to want to take a deep breath,” Edelgard says, staring at the hookah. “His insistence on calling me by that nickname is provoking the same response.” 

“Is it really an Almyran tradition?” Ferdinand asks, running his gloved fingers over the smooth glass curves of the hookah. “It is certainly a lovely object, if nothing else.” He sniffs delicately at the herb blend. “Huh. I am not familiar with the tradition of smoking herb blends, but this smells oddly familiar. Strange, given I have never been to Almyra.” 

“You’ve been to Garreg Mach, though,” says the recently-promoted Captain of the Imperial Guard, with a new dress uniform to go along with his perpetual scowl. “Everyone smoked that stuff, when we were in school.” 

Edelgard, Hubert and Ferdinand just  _ stare  _ at him. 

Felix sighs. “You didn’t know that? The gatekeeper was high off this shit all the time. Why do you think he was so chatty?” 

“How did he manage to conceal this elaborate of a smoking contraption standing near the front gate?” Edelgard asks, studying it. 

“He just smoked it out of rolled-up papers,” Felix says, shaking his head. “Like the rest of the student body. All of you are idiots.” 

Hubert gives Felix a dark look. “Captain Fraldarius, pray do not call the Emperor an  _ idiot,  _ especially near my hearing.” 

Edelgard has never seemed to take Felix’s prickly nature personally; in fact, Hubert thinks she likes how he refuses to adhere to the traditional forms of address and speaks his mind. “Are you quite certain this is the same substance?” She sniffs at the packet of herbs. “It’s very pungent.” 

“I’m sure. I didn’t smoke it, because why would I, but I know someone who did. A lot. With the gatekeeper.” He turns, surveys the gathering and whistles sharply. “Sylvain!” 

Sylvain winds his way from where he was dancing with some of the Almyran delegation, giving a wave as he approaches. “Hey, what’s up? Woah.” His eyes widen as he sees the hookah. “Is that from Claude?” 

Felix shoves the packet of herbs under his nose. “Is this that shit you smoked back in school, like that time I had to stop you from going skinny-dipping in the pond after curfew?” 

“Hi, nice to see you, too, Felix,” Sylvain says, sliding an arm around Felix’s waist. “I am having a great time, thanks!” 

“Hi,” Felix says flatly. “Answer the question.” 

Sylvain rolls his eyes. “I guess? I didn’t smoke it out of a fancy bowl thing, though. It was like a cigarette.” He glances around. “The professor isn’t here, right?” 

“He’s currently out of the capital with Jeritza,” Edelgard says. 

Felix snorts. “What, worried you’re going to end up with detention?” 

“Nah, it’s just, remember that  _ look  _ the professor would give you, if you did bad in training? That kind of blank, wide-eyed look like maybe you could have done better?” 

“That’s the look the professor gives everyone,” Felix says. “Even now.  _ Especially  _ you.” 

“I never got that look,” Edelgard says, smugly. She clears her throat when Hubert arches a brow at her in silent challenge, remembering the time Byleth tried to give Edelgard reason lessons and Edelgard accidentally set a training dummy on fire. “In ax training, anyway,” she adds hastily. 

“Okay, okay! I get it! You guys were all being serious and studious while I was smoking Claude’s weird herb-drug with the gatekeeper and chasing tail.” Sylvain laughs; like Ferdinand, he seems to be in a perpetually good mood. 

Unlike Ferdinand, Hubert knows it has mostly been a lie. It’s only rarely that Sylvain’s easy smile has started to reach his eyes.

“And trying to swim in the fish pond, naked,” Felix points out, unwilling to let it go. “Which, ew.” 

“I was gonna catch a fish!” Sylvain makes a snappy-hand motion at Felix. “With my bare hands!”

“You were going to catch  _ pneumonia _ . Idiot.” 

Sylvain flicks Felix in the forehead. Felix scowls and elbows him in the side. Sylvain just laughs. “I’m pretty sure that’s the same kind, yeah. I used to trade some Faerghus whiskey to Hilda for some, or maybe it was Leonie? Either way, Blue Lions and Golden Deer had a pretty good trade system going on. Even after I transferred houses.” 

“I had no idea about any of this,” Edelgard says. “The things you miss when you’re too busy planning a war against a god.” 

“Yeah,” Sylvain says, laughing. “But I have a feeling you wouldn’t have been into it even if you  _ weren’t _ , Your Majesty. No offense, you’re scary and smart and all that, but I don’t really see you as a party girl.” 

“I have had  _ two  _ glasses of wine,” Edelgard says, a little huffily. “Just this evening. Before  _ dinner _ .” 

Sylvain gasps. “Not  _ two  _ glasses! Edelgard. You  _ lush _ .” 

Hubert rubs his temples. “All of you, please remember she is the  _ Emperor _ .” 

“Yeah,” Sylvain teases. “The Emperor of....” He thinks. “Gotta be a wine pun, hang on…” He snaps his fingers. “Uh. Pi- _No Church Here Anymore_? Mer- _Lo and Behold The Future_? Oh! How about...Emperor of My Ax Brings the Cham- _pain_?”

“Stop before I arrest you,” Felix says. 

“I kind of like the last one,” Edelgard demurs, a small smile on her face. 

Sylvain just laughs, then leans in and says in a fake whisper, “Say, Edelgard, if you don’t want those herbs, I’m happy to take that off your hands.” 

“No,” Felix says, flatly. “Sylvain,  _ no _ .” 

“Aw, come on, Felix, I was really getting them for  _ you _ . Speaking of people who need to relax!” 

Edelgard shakes her head. “Thank you for the truly unselfish offer, Sylvain, but it would appear I am supposed to do this as a symbol of my desire for peace between Almyra and Fodlan.” 

“Well, how’s he gonna know?” Sylvain asks. He bows. “Also, totally here for being your ambassador to Almyra, I can smoke it on your behalf. If he’s the King, Claude probably has access to  _ way  _ better herbs now. Not cut with paprika or whatever.” 

“His note did say you would be the one to ask, if Her Majesty could not figure out how the hookah works,” Ferdinand adds. 

Sylvain throws his head back and laughs. “Yeah, he had one in his room. Good times. Honestly, Your Majesty, you should smoke them and tell him you did it -- Claude will never expect it, there’s no way he believes you’ll actually do it.” 

“Because he knows I will think it is poisoned?” Edelgard asks. Hubert sees an odd look on her face, pensive where before she was smiling. “Or because I’m me?” 

Sylvain, not nearly as familiar with the nuances of Lady Edelgard’s moods, just sweeps a bow and says, “Probably a bit of both, but honestly? The latter, for sure. But Claude  _ was  _ fond of poisons, so yeah, definitely get that checked out first.” 

“According to Lorenz, not all the Almyrans are thrilled to have a king who has half Fodlan ancestry,” Ferdinand points out. “So it might not be Claude’s fault, if the herbs  _ do  _ happen to be poisoned.” 

“Oh, it will be,” Hubert adds, suitably ominous. 

“Hmph.” Felix scowls. “If you want to kill someone, you should show up with a weapon and challenge them. Sending murder presents is cheating.” 

Ferdinand clears his throat and looks at Hubert. 

Hubert shrugs. “There’s no such thing as  _ fair  _ in war, as we all know.”

“We’re not at war, Hubert, we are trying to be at  _ peace _ .” Ferdinand frowns. “But we cannot speak for the Almyrans and it is doubtful Claude grew these herbs himself, he was never very interested in gardening.” 

Hubert says, “If you will allow me to have those items, Lady Edelgard, I will see that they are scanned for poison or other enchantments.” Or he will simply dispose of them, because it seems like a wasted effort -- he really cannot imagine Lady Edelgard wants to sit about smoking weird herbs out of a hookah. She does have other things to occupy her time. 

To his surprise, Edelgard says, “Do not trouble yourself, Hubert. I shall deal with it.” She motions to a servant, gives instructions, and both the hookah and the herbs vanish along with the servant. That’s odd, but before he can puzzle out her strange tension and her behavior, she goes to bid goodnight to the delegates and Hubert follows behind her like a shadow, as always. 

The Emperor taking her leave is not as simple as exchanging words, of course, and it takes a good half hour before she is able to make her exit. Although it pains him, Hubert allows Felix to escort her to her chambers as is customary for the Captain of the Imperial Guard. It makes him twitchy to relinquish such a duty, but he does understand that she is the Emperor of all Fodlan, and others are permitted to see to her safety. 

At least, he understands it when it is something like this -- a relatively small gathering held in one of the palace reception rooms. 

Felix returns, though with the Emperor no longer in attendance, it is only a short time before he leaves in Sylvain’s company. Hubert waits patiently for Ferdinand to stop charming the Almyrans so they, too, can retire. 

As they head back to the residential wing, Ferdinand is animatedly discussing the equestrian traditions in Almyra -- to which Hubert is only paying a bare minimum of attention, especially when he starts going on about wyverns and pegasuses -- when he notices something in the hallway and stops dead in his tracks. 

There’s something coming from under Edelgard’s door, and it looks like -- is it  _ smoke _ ? 

“Lady Edelgard!” With a shout, Hubert breaks into a run. It feels like being stuck in one of those dreams where the hallway grows longer and longer, the destination stretching farther and farther away. In reality, it probably only takes seconds to reach her door, but it feels like an eternity. 

He will never forgive himself if something happened to her. Not when they came this far, went through a  _ war  _ and some assassin -- no, he can’t even imagine it. He will never forgive himself, but he will  _ single-handedly burn down Almyra and have Claude von Riegan’s head on a --  _

“Hubert, wait,” Ferdinand says, distantly, in the background. “You may wish to wait and --”

Hubert throws Edelgard’s door wide open. “My lady!” 

Edelgard is dressed in her sleeping clothes, her hair pinned up for bed. She’s sitting cross-legged on a floor pillow. She gives a startled little shout and stares, wide-eyed, up at Hubert. 

In front of her is the hookah. She is holding the hose apparatus, and the hookah is bubbling and producing both vapor and smoke. 

“Hubert, what on earth are you doing barging into my room without knocking?” 

“There was smoke,” Hubert says, teeth gritted. “From under your door.” 

Edelgard huffs, but she colors and clearly looks a bit abashed. “I suppose I should be lucky you did not dark spikes the door.” 

“I tried to say that wasn’t enough smoke to indicate a fire,” Ferdinand says. “My apologies for this interruption of your evening, Your Majesty.” 

Hubert’s heart has not quite slowed down from the adrenaline spike. Once he ascertains she is not in danger of perishing in an assassin’s inferno, however… “Do you -- are you honestly smoking that thing? My  _ lady _ .” 

“It isn’t poisoned,” Edelgard says, clearly defensive. “I had it checked. By Linhardt, so a trustworthy source.” 

“My lady,” Hubert says, again, rubbing his temples. “The treaty is signed, sealed and on record. It did not truly require you to smoke herbs from a -- a hookah sent to you by  _ Claude _ . It was simply a dare, knowing him, and he is not to be trusted.” 

“Well!” Edelgard clears her throat. “Perhaps I wished to honor his homeland’s traditions--” 

“Which are being  _ untrustworthy _ , if my knowledge of Almyra is correct--” 

“As it happens, I do not think that is a fair assessment of the Almyrans, Hubert!” 

“At any rate,” Hubert continues, ignoring Ferdinand’s outburst, “I am sure this is not a wise decision.” 

“It is too late, as I have already made it.” Edelgard, in a display of stubbornness that might surprise anyone who doesn’t know her as well as Hubert, raises the hose and takes another inhale of the herbs. She breathes it out with her usual defiance, then promptly starts to cough. 

Hubert raises an eyebrow at her. 

Edelgard politely covers her mouth with her fist. “Do not give me that look, Hubert. I suppose I  _ was  _ goaded by Claude’s letter, but I was thinking about what Sylvain said, and how, when we were at school, I did not do anything like this. I was not smoking herbs, or drinking, or going for late-night swims in the pond. I missed out on all of that.” 

“I cannot see how that is cause for regret, that pond was not made for swimming.” 

“Yes, but the point is, I -- perhaps wished to see what I was missing.” 

There is something else going on, he can tell. An unhappiness in her eyes, a tension that speaks of some inner angst that Hubert does not know how to vanquish. 

All he wants to do is make her happy. “My lady, while I would  _ personally  _ not advocate smoking for recreation, it was simply a surprise to see smoke beneath your door. I apologize for overreacting.” 

“Do not apologize when you are not actually sorry, Hubert.” 

Chastised, Hubert bows politely. “I cannot be other than who I am, Lady Edelgard.” 

“I know, and I do understand. Your prompt attention to my perceived danger is noted and welcome, or will be, when I stop feeling as if you’re about to try and ground me.” 

“My lady, you are the Emperor, not I.” Hubert bows, again. 

“I did say  _ try  _ and ground me. Not that it would work.” Edelgard waves a hand. “You may go, Hubert. As you can see, I am fine.” She glances behind him. “Ferdinand, there is no reason to have your eyes covered, honestly, these nightclothes are less revealing than our house loungewear and you saw me in those all the time.” 

Hubert, having now remembered Ferdinand was with him, turns on his heel. Ferdinand is there, covering his eyes with one hand. “You were not the Emperor then, my lady.” 

“Still, I insist,” says Edelgard. 

Ferdinand takes his hand away. He blushes a bit, then, in his normal indomitable fashion, says, “Well, do the herbs truly help you relax?”

“It does until someone unexpectedly barges into your room,” Edelgard says, sounding more like a recalcitrant teenager than the Emperor of all Fodlan. 

“I am,” Hubert bites out, “The Minister of the Imperial Household. When I see smoke coming from under a door, I investigate. If you have a problem with that, you have my deepest apologies but I will  _ not  _ regret acting quickly to ensure you were safe.” 

“Can I try some?” Ferdinand asks, ignoring Hubert and moving closer to where Edelgard sits before the hookah. 

Hubert wonders, idly, if he has transported into some dimension in which the world has gone mad and he is the only sane person in it. “Ferdinand, I do not think this is quite the time to indulge your inexhaustible curiosity. ” 

“No, it’s all right,” Edelgard says. She indicates one of the other floor pillows. “Go ahead. It tastes like a spice cake.” 

Ferdinand, who never met an experience or a thing he doesn’t want to try, immediately joins her on the floor before the hookah. When Edelgard hands him the hose, he lifts it and takes a delicate puff from the tip. “Oh!” It makes him cough a bit, too. “That isn’t unpleasant. Hubert, come try.” 

“No, and I cannot stress enough that just because those herbs are not  _ poison _ , that does not mean  _ you should be smoking them _ .” There is a faint headache throbbing between his eyes. As frustrating as it can occasionally be, mitigating Edelgard and Ferdinand’s competitiveness with each other, it suddenly occurs to him that it may be preferable to the two of joining forces. At least when it is against  _ him _ . 

“Linhardt told me they were likely a blend to encourage relaxation and restful sleep,” says Edelgard, defensively. “He said  _ he  _ tried some at school, too.” 

“Linhardt would be the expert, though it is hard to imagine him needing any substance to aid in the pursuit of a nap.” Ferdinand tries more of the smoke, then gallantly passes it to Edelgard with a half-bow and a polite, “Your Majesty.” 

“Thank you, Ferdinand.” Instead of putting the infernal thing down, Edelgard takes another inhale. She coughs again, harder this time, enough so that her eyes water. “Ah.” 

Hubert throws his hands in the air. “Behold as we break the world to be born anew, only for our Emperor to succumb to a former classmate’s taunt and a packet of low-quality drugs.” 

“I do not think these are low quality,” Ferdinand says, after he, too, takes another inhale and  _ also  _ coughs rather dramatically. “But Linhardt was not wrong about the relaxation properties.” He blinks. “It is not an unpleasant feeling, rather like drinking wine.” 

Edelgard is staring at the hookah. She turns it this way, and that. All of a sudden, she laughs. An actual laugh, and Hubert realizes he cannot remember ever hearing one quite so loudly from her -- not in a very long time. Perhaps ever. “I finally realized that this hookah is in the shape of a  _ dragon _ .” 

Ferdinand bursts into laughter. “Well, that  _ is  _ fitting, is it not?” He leans in closer to Edelgard, fairly brimming with good humor. “You did smoke a dragon, Edelgard, and quite decidedly so.” 

Edelgard  _ giggles.  _ “I did. We did.” She smiles. “Hubert. Come and try this. Just once. Let us be briefly irresponsible, I would say we have earned it.”

“If you must, think of how it is the last thing Claude von Riegan would expect,” Ferdinand adds, waving the hose at him. 

Hubert sighs and goes to sit on the floor with the two of them. “This is unbelievably stupid of both of you, why would I willingly add myself into this idiocy?” 

“What did we do all of this for, if not so that we could take some time for ourselves?” Edelgard asks, gaze veiled for a moment. “I promise I intend to go right to bed, not take a late-night swim in the fountain.” 

“Ohh,” Ferdinand says, clearly already affected by the herbs. “But that might be -- ah.” He catches sight of Hubert’s scowl and says quickly, “....very foolish and certainly not a thing we shall do.” 

“There is not enough water in it for a swim,” Edelgard says. “But I could have one built that  _ is _ .” 

“ _ Yess, _ ” Ferdinand encourages, waving his fist. “As Prime Minister, I support this truly brilliant policy for public works.”

“Thank you, Ferdinand.” 

“Please do not devise imperial policy while under the influence of Almyran herbs,” Hubert says. Unlike the other two, he sounds decidedly tired. He wonders if this is how the professor felt, at school. 

“Make the fountain in the shape of a  _ dragon _ ,” says Ferdinand, beaming. “With an elaborate axe buried in its skull!” 

“All hail the Emperor of My Ax Will Bring the Cham _pain_ ,” Edelgard intones, straight-faced, and raises her fist. 

Ferdinand laughs so hard, he almost falls over. 

“ _ No _ ,” says Hubert, because he feels as if he ought, but his mouth twitches a bit. “The ax  _ would  _ be a nice touch.” 

Edelgard laughs again, open and amused, and her smile is bright enough that Hubert feels slightly -- only slightly -- guilty about reprimanding them both. 

Still. Someone must be the adult, here. 

“Hubert, do stop skulking there like an ill-mannered crow, would you? Come take a puff of this dragon.” Ferdinand waves the hookah hose. 

“I have seen enough dragons to last my lifetime, thank you,” Hubert says. “Someone needs their wits about them, and Ferdinand has very little to spare.” 

“Rude,” Ferdinand declares. “Do you see what I put up with, my lady?” 

“Believe me, I know. And Hubert, I understand you want us to be safe, but this is my private quarters and we are hardly incapacitated,” Edelgard says, settling back on her pillow. She does look relaxed, but Hubert is still going to assassinate Claude von Riegan for this. And, quite possibly, Sylvain Gautier. 

Maybe even  _ Ferdinand _ , at this point, for encouraging her. 

“He’s making assassination plans in his head,” Ferdinand says, pointing. He sounds ridiculously fond. “I know that look.” 

“It is his only look,” Edelgard teases. She sounds just as fond as Ferdinand. 

Hubert’s face turns red. “How lovely your relaxation plans include such vicious mockery on my behalf.” 

“Oh, do stop,” Ferdinand says, moving a bit closer. “Try this, just once, and let’s see if Almyran herbs are powerful enough to make even a spymaster lower his guard.” 

“That you think it is in any way a good thing for me to  _ lower my guard  _ means you might need to be put on trial for treason,” Hubert informs him, but he takes the hose mostly so they will stop passing it back and forth. 

“Hubert, do not make me command you,” Edelgard says, smiling at him. “It is likely no different than all of us splitting a bottle of wine.” 

It is entirely different, but Hubert has been in enough battles to know when to press and when to retreat. “I am not stopping you from indulging in this foolishness, clearly, but that does not mean I am required to do it with you.” 

“I dare you,” Ferdinand says, slyly. 

“I am not you, Felix, or Caspar, that will not work on me,” Hubert says. 

“You try it, and I will not have any more,” Edelgard says, because she knows how to get what she wants by now. 

Hubert is both impressed and annoyed by her play. 

“Aha!” Ferdinand beams over at Edelgard. “Truly the reason you are our leader, Your Majesty. That was a brilliant tactical move.” 

“Thank you.” She inclines her head. “Hubert?” 

He refuses to look at either of them as he takes the hose and puts the tip in his mouth. Hubert consigns Claude von Riegan to a traitor’s painful and humiliating death --  _ in public _ , attended by everyone he loves, Hubert is going to make it a  _ festival _ \-- and inhales. 

He is slightly mollified by the fact he is the only one who doesn’t cough. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear there is a threesome at the end of this fic. I promise. _Promise_. 
> 
> Just. Not quite yet.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry my kink is apparently "banter," what.

“You know, I never thought about it,” Ferdinand says. He’s sprawled on his back, his head on Hubert’s thigh. “I suppose I always just figured he was very hungry. Life as a mercenary is uncertain, perhaps it was his nature to eat any time food was available. Rather like a feral cat one adopts and brings into one’s home.” 

“No one is  _ that _ hungry.” Edelgard says. She is wrapped up in a blanket that Hubert procured from her chaise lounge, still seated on her pillow with her back propped up against a chair. “I saw him eat two dinners in a row and then have ice cream with Jeritza von Hrym. Which, I suppose that makes a bit more sense, now.” She holds her hand out and wiggles her fingers. She looks fascinated by the movement. “I confess I do not feel in the least bit sleepy, but I do feel decidedly odd.” 

“I do not feel sleepy, either,” says Ferdinand. He gives Hubert a sly grin. It is a grin Hubert knows well. It is also entirely inappropriate for their current circumstances. 

“Never say the drugs delivered by  _ Claude von Riegan  _ are not doing what they said, I am deeply shocked.” Hubert realizes he is playing with Ferdinand’s hair, but he doesn’t stop. It seems too much effort. 

_ Relaxed  _ is not a state Hubert is familiar with, but this must be what it is. Interesting. 

“I think Dimitri had a crush on Claude, when we were at school,” Edelgard says, out of nowhere. 

“Dimitri had a crush on  _ Felix _ ,” Ferdinand corrects -- even relaxed, the urge must be too strong to resist. “Everyone knew that. Hard to blame him, really. I, myself, am fond of the scowling, dark-haired, acerbic type.” 

“What nonsense is this?” Hubert pulls at Ferdinand’s hair. “You already had sex with Sylvain, are you going for a matched set?” 

“Ferdinand! You -- with Sylvain?” It is a testament to how Edelgard is affected by the drugs that she sounds like Dorothea gossiping back at the Academy. “How many of my Black Eagles have slept with him?” She gives Hubert a questioning look. 

“Certainly not,” says Hubert. “I have no interest in redheads.” 

“Oh, do stop,” Ferdinand says, swatting at his hand. “Even you aren’t a good enough liar to sell that at the moment.” He turns his head to look at Edelgard. “Tell us, Edelgard, who did you fancy in school? I confess I am curious.” 

“I cannot say I thought about it terribly often, but I did -- perhaps I had a bit of a crush on someone.” Edelgard draws her knees to her chest, then ducks her head. She mutters a name, and it is not at all the one Hubert expects to hear. 

Ferdinand sits up so fast, he very nearly whacks Hubert in the chin with his head. “Did you just say... _ Claude _ ?” 

“He is attractive and clever,” she says, peeking up at them. Her eyes are so dilated, the only violet left is a thin ring around the pupils. “He drove me mad, I wanted to trip him with my ax  _ constantly _ in training, I hated his stupid  _ smirk _ \--”

“You failed to assassinate him,” Hubert adds, dryly. “Which, I suppose, is secondary to  _ you tried to have him assassinated by bandits. _ ” 

“Yes, thank you, Hubert, I did both try  _ and _ fail to assassinate him, but given that brought us the professor I would say that worked out for the best. But Claude is  _ very  _ pretty.” Edelgard looks relatively unconcerned. “I did not think we were talking of a deep lasting bond, merely a -- a crush. Yes? That’s the sort of thing a crush is, is it not?”

“Yes,” Ferdinand says. “At least, that was my experience. And for the record, Hubert, I had a fine time with Sylvain, and I am quite fond of him, of course, but at the time I was merely eager to, ah, let’s just say...get on with that part of my education.” 

“I did not particularly wish for  _ that _ , with him,” Edelgard says, cheeks tinged pink. “But I did find him clever, and yes, all right, physically very nice to look at.” 

“He is certainly both of those things,” Ferdinand says, a bit too quickly for Hubert’s taste. 

“He isn’t  _ that _ clever,” Hubert grouses, without much heat. Then he remembers that somehow, even without being  _ present _ , Claude von Riegan has gotten them all high and talking about how wonderful he is. Or, at least two out of the three of them.

Well, fine, if he were  _ pressed _ , Hubert would say Claude has never been nearly as stupid as he sometimes wanted people to think, and there are people in the world who are far less attractive. But he is not pressed, and therefore, he does not say it. 

“Are you going to tell him that you shared his gift with your two favorite ministers, when you send the thank-you card?” Ferdinand asks, lying back with his head in Hubert’s lap. 

“No, she is not going to put that in the --” Hubert narrows his eyes. It takes his mind a moment to catch up with his mouth -- so _this_ is how Ferdinand experiences life on a daily basis, is it? “ _What_ thank you card?”

“For the gift! It is only proper,” says Ferdinand. “Besides, Edelgard did mention that she wants Claude to know she smoked his dragon.” 

“Smoked his dragon,” Edelgard repeats, and giggles. She claps a hand over her mouth, but her shoulders are still shaking and her giggles spill out into actual, only slightly intoxicated, laughter. “I -- oh, dear. That’s quite funny.  _ Smoked his dragon _ .” 

Ferdinand laughs, too. “Edelgard, I must say, I have never heard you laugh this much. It is quite nice.” 

It is. And maybe it’s all right. Just this once. 

“You may call me El, if you like,” Edelgard says, to Ferdinand. “I tell Hubert this but I know he won’t.” 

“Certainly not,” Hubert says, going back to playing with Ferdinand’s hair. 

“For someone who claims not to like redheads, you are quite enamored of Ferdinand’s hair,” Edelgard says, pointedly. 

“I did say you were not fooling anyone with that.” Ferdinand folds his hands over his chest, looking very pleased with himself, his long legs stretched out in front of him. 

Hubert thinks about scowling, but decides against it. “Your hair is a much nicer shade of red than Sylvain’s. His is far too  _ aggressively  _ red for my tastes _. _ ” 

Ferdinand snorts and reaches up, patting absently at Hubert’s wrist. “As you say, darling.” He’s not usually one to use the endearment in front of other people, but then again, Lady Edelgard is hardly  _ other people.  _

She is, however, watching them with an odd look on her face; pleased, and a little amused, and perhaps even a little wistful. 

“Is something the matter, Lady Edelgard?” Hubert asks, gently. 

She gives a slight shake of her head. “No, nothing. I -- I knew about the two of you, of course, it is simply that I have never seen it, in person. You do not tend toward affection in public, unless that is what you call your bickering.” She smiles. 

“It is indeed, no matter what he tries to claim,” Ferdinand says. “And I would be happy to be affectionate, it is just that Hubert here thinks it ruins his image.” 

“It does,” Hubert says, but he keeps playing with Ferdinand’s hair. Perhaps it is the drugs, but the feel of his hair is even silkier than usual. Despite the draftiness of the room, it feels too-hot, enough that Hubert shrugs out of his heavy cloak as best he can, with Ferdinand still sprawled in his lap. “I am supposed to incite feelings of wariness and mild terror. Her Majesty is the one people need to love.” 

Hubert cards his fingers through Ferdinand’s hair. Ferdinand makes a pleased sound and his eyes slide half-closed. “That’s lovely.” He turns his head slightly, and then he says, “Lady Edelgard -- ah, my apologies, El -- I am quite sure Hubert would not mind playing with  _ your  _ hair, if you wished it. He is quite talented and has a free hand.” 

“What are you on about.” Hubert gives Ferdinand’s hair a sharp tug, but that’s hardly a lack of incentive -- Ferdinand likes having it pulled almost as much as petted. “I’m sure Lady Edelgard doesn’t want me to do any such thing.” 

“You would be wrong.” 

Blinking, Hubert glances over at her and sees her taking her hair down. Edelgard has a lot of hair. It’s straight and very fine, lacking the natural curl and waves of Ferdinand’s, but it looks like snow falling around her shoulders as she lets it down. 

She drags her pillow over, lays on her back, and settles her head on Hubert’s other thigh. “Hmm. Not terrible.” 

Hubert is momentarily thrown by this -- having Ferdinand  _ and  _ Edelgard like this is dangerously affecting his equilibrium; he has tried very hard to keep his feelings for them both separate and compartmentalized. 

“I did not take my hair down for you to stare it,” Edelgard informs him. Her pupils are wide and dilated, her usually sharp gaze softened and a little blurred like rain-slick glass. The rigid lines of her are smoothed out and gentle. 

Hubert feels a rush of embarrassed affection, awkwardly reaching out to run his fingers through her hair, too. It is, he thinks, a bit like petting two very pampered long-haired cats. 

“Hubert, are you laughing at myself and Lady Edelgard?” 

“Of course not,” he lies. “I am laughing at the idea of anyone believing this ever happened. Be it Claude, or our Black Eagles, I daresay I could off a score of enemies by the mere suggestion of this visual alone.” 

“Perhaps these scores of enemies, yes, but our Black Eagles would believe it,” Edelgard says. Even the usual crisp edges of her speech are softer. “Everyone knows about you and Ferdinand, and most of them thought you were in love with me from our time at the monastery.” 

_ Of course I love you.  _ The words are a clarion echo in his head. Has he ever said them? Does he even need to, at this point? Hubert puts it out of his mind and watches the way the silver-white strands of her hair look against the pale skin of his fingers. “I rather think they imagine I bring you dead birds in the same manner as the monastery cats to show my affections, not play with your hair.” 

“Cats groom each other,” Ferdinand points out. He and Edelgard think this is  _ very  _ funny, and Hubert stares into the fire across the room and plays with both of their hair while they laugh like idiots. 

At some point, Hubert feels Ferdinand catch his hand and bring it to his mouth. His lips are warm, and Hubert’s body flushes hot as the sensation. This is -- not ideal, given his reaction to Ferdinand’s mouth and the fact Lady Edelgard’s head is in his lap. 

Unfortunately, that thought does little to calm him or mitigate the problem. 

“When I take von Riegan’s head,” Hubert muses, conversationally, “should we put it on a pike on the gates of Enbarr, or nearer to the palace, do you think?” 

“Nearer to the palace,” says Edelgard. “So he can gaze upon the new dragon fountain I shall commission the Adrestian artisans to build.” 

Ferdinand snorts a laugh. “Hubert, I can tell you are enjoying yourself.” Ferdinand, damn him, continues kissing at Hubert’s hand, mouth brushing over the backs of Hubert’s knuckles. He slides his mouth over two of Hubert’s fingers, and lust hits Hubert, sharp as a lance. 

“I shall mount his head and put it on the wall in my chambers,” Hubert says, only a little breathless. “With a pair of antlers.” 

Perhaps he should not say the word  _ mount _ , in his current condition. 

Edelgard gives that little laugh of hers again. “No one is beheading Claude. I am having a lovely time, and therefore, I pronounce his gift a success.” 

“Alas, he lives to meddle via delegations and potentially nefarious gifts another day.” Ferdinand goes back to brushing his mouth over the back of Hubert’s hand. It sends little shuddering sparks of pleasure through him, heating his blood and making his cock stir. 

He takes a deep, even breath. Perhaps Lady Edelgard will not notice. 

She notices. Of course. 

Edelgard turns her head so that she is staring up at Hubert. “If I am making you uncomfortable, I will remove myself. That was not my intention.” 

Ferdinand gives a low, husky laugh. “You are, but I do not think he minds. Hubert does like to be uncomfortable.” 

“I will thank  _ you _ to be quiet.” Hubert’s rejoinder lacks any real heat. Ferdinand is not entirely wrong; he likes discomfort in certain  _ situations _ , but he is not about to elucidate the difference between the two at the moment. 

“I know he does,” Edelgard says, and there’s a little smile on her face that Hubert realizes with a start is the same one she wore when she demanded he pleasure himself so she could watch, all those years ago in his old dorm room at Garreg Mach. 

“Aha, so I  _ do _ have you to thank for his enjoyment of being slapped in the face,” Ferdinand says, smirking with so much satisfaction that Hubert wants to choke him on principle. 

“It would seem so.” 

Hubert takes a deep breath. “I would like to suggest we either switch the conversational topic to something that is  _ not  _ my enjoying anything, or both of you shall have to find a more agreeable pillow.” 

“Don’t be silly, Hubert,” Edelgard says, spritely. “If we wanted agreeable, I highly doubt we would be lying on  _ you _ .” 

Ferdinand laughs. “Aha! You may have to - what is it Caspar says? Call the healer to deal with the fire damage from that burn?” 

“I am going to stand up in six seconds, and your poor reflexes are going to result in both of you banging your heads on the floor,” Hubert informs them. “You may call the healer for  _ that _ .” 

Ferdinand responds by sucking on his fingers. Edelgard laughs and smiles like she knows a secret, and neither one of them attempt to move. 

“He also likes being bossed around,” Edelgard says. “Or he did. Is that still true, Ferdinand?” 

“One,” Hubert counts. 

“In certain circumstances,” Ferdinand says. He glances up at Hubert and smirks. “And in those, yes, he does.” 

_ Fuck me harder, Hubert. Make me come. Goddess, ruin me, yes --  _

“Two,” Hubert continues, glancing pointedly away. “I can make room for your head on my wall as well, von Aegir. Right next to von Riegan’s. I shall start my own macabre collection.” 

“Hardly worse than your current decor, darling,” Ferdinand says, undaunted as always. “Likely more personable, too.” 

Edelgard gives a surprised little laugh. 

Hubert, in a rare moment of childishness, mimics Sylvain’s earlier gesture and flicks Ferdinand in the forehead. “Enough. Five.” 

“Five? What happened to  _ three  _ and  _ four _ , darling?” 

“Your disparaging remarks upon my personal style.” Hubert pauses. “ _ Darling _ .” 

“He always says it like it’s a curse, but he really means it,” Ferdinand says to Edelgard. He gives Hubert a smile that is so full of warmth, it makes Hubert want to throw himself off Edelgard’s balcony in despair at how  _ utterly  _ this man’s sincerity and joy for literally everything has ruined him. 

Hubert really needs to make his excuses to his Emperor and drag his -- Ferdinand -- off by his pretty hair, straight to Hubert’s bed. 

Yes. That is what he is going to do, any moment now. 

“That is why I do not mind him calling me Lady Edelgard instead of El,” Edelgard says. “He says it as if he  _ is  _ calling me El, and I quite like it. Well, Hubert? Have we embarrassed you enough for one evening?” 

“ _ Yes _ ,” Hubert says, heartfelt. “Do not make me consider where I might place  _ your  _ head, Lady Edelgard.” 

“Treason,” Ferdinand snorts, then laughs. “I have an idea where you might like to put her head --mmph.” 

Hubert covers Ferdinand’s mouth with his hand. “It must be the lingering effects of von Riegan’s intoxicants. I cannot imagine what  _ else  _ would make him say that in your company, my lady.” 

Lady Edelgard is watching him with a speculative gaze, a little smile curving her mouth. “Hubert, do you recall the promise I made you, that night in your room at Garreg Mach?” 

Hubert inclines his head. His heart races, and he is losing his ability to control his body’s reaction to any of this. “I do.” 

_ When we win the war, you may have me.  _

“I should like to keep it,” she says, and reaches up to gently touch his wrist, where he is still stroking her hair. She brings it down, kissing his hand just as Ferdinand is -- once again -- doing to his  _ other  _ hand. Hands that have killed and tortured, maimed, destroyed. All for her, and the victory they won in blood and fire. “If you wish.” 

Hubert inhales slowly. It is probably  _ more  _ than obvious that yes, he would like that. But does  _ she _ , or is it the effects of the herbs still making her ask for something she does not really, truly, want? 

“I think perhaps now is not the time to discuss such things, my lady,” he says, gently. He inhales sharply as she stares him straight in the eyes and carries his hand down from her mouth to her neck, and lower, pressing it against the gentle thrum of her heart. 

“Why not? Surely you do not think my will so weak that it would be comprised by that -- by Claude’s gift. Have you ever known me to change my mind when I am committed to something?” Edelgard still has his hand pressed to her chest, her heart beginning to beat faster. “Have I failed to keep any of my other promises to you?” 

On his other side, Ferdinand is dragging Hubert’s hand down his chest and _lower._ It is very distracting, but Hubert has been asked a question by his lady, and he shall answer. “I do not -- of course I do not think that. I know more than anyone the strength of your--” a sharp inhale, as Ferdinand drags Hubert’s hand lower, teasing it over the shape of Ferdinand’s erection. “Will.” 

“Then believe me when I tell you, my friend, that it is something I want.” Her eyes are drowsy, but intent on his. “Perhaps the herbs allowed me to mention it, when I would otherwise not wish to disrupt the harmony and happiness you have found with Ferdinand. But if he does not mind sharing you…” 

“Ah, Lady Edelgard - El! Of course, I have always known that I will share Hubert with you. And if you should doubt my sincerity, you may ask Hubert if the idea of him fulfilling that particular promise bothers me, as he can tell you quite certainly that it does not.” 

“You are both compromised--” Hubert begins, but loses the train of his thoughts completely when Lady Edelgard moves his hand over the soft swell of her breast. 

“I wonder if you remember how I taught you to please me,” she says. “It has been some time.”

“I have never forgotten a single lesson you’ve taught me, my lady,” Hubert says, softly, staring down at her. 

“Good,” she says, and then rises regally, like a queen -- like the Emperor she is. She holds a hand out. “Then both of you, come with me. I should like to spoil my most loyal and dearest friend, and Ferdinand, I require your assistance to do so.” 

Ferdinand, eager and spry as a spaniel, leaps to his feet. He beams and bows, his hair a bit of a mess from all of Hubert’s tugging and pulling on it, and an erection clearly tenting the fabric of his pants. “Your Majesty, I would be  _ delighted  _ to assist you in this matter.” 

Edelgard turns and walks with all her regal bearing toward the door that leads to her bedchamber. Hubert, as ever, follows along, with Ferdinand at his side. 

Perhaps it should feel stranger than it does. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next one is all smut, folks. (Finally amirite).


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to split this chapter up into two, just for ease of reading. Explicit content is in both, though. 
> 
> Also this is set in a world in which magic exists, so it's definitely not realistic when it comes to safer sexual practices. Just throwing that out there -- I write fiction, not guidebooks ;)

The Emperor’s private bedchamber is far more lavish than Hubert assumes Edelgard prefers; it has a large, wide bed with four posts and old-fashioned, tied-back drapes, detailed portraits that he doubts she’s even looked at all that much, and a private adjoining bath. There is an entire wall of windows that look out into the rainy evening weather, with a lovely view of Enbarr all lit up for the evening. That, he’s sure, is her favorite part of the room. 

She lets go of Hubert’s hand to go draw the curtains. It is cold in the room, drafty, and Hubert waves a hand and the kindling in the cold hearth brightens to life. 

“Thank you.” Edelgard gives them both an expectant look. “Well? I  _ am  _ the Emperor. I expect to be attended to.” 

“Of course, my lady.” Hubert bows and crosses to her. He hasn’t assisted her like this since the war, though it was usually her armor he helped her out of, not her nightclothes. And this is much easier, just a simple tug of her chemise that leaves her bare from the waist up. Her skin is cool -- a little too much so, for his liking, in fact. Hubert repeats the gesture to increase the fire and warm up the room a bit more. 

She reaches out and lightly strokes the side of his face. “You take good care of me.” 

Hubert catches her hand and bows, almost -- but not quite -- kissing it. The praise, of course, gets him almost more aroused than the sight of her half-naked before him. “Of course, Lady Edelgard.” 

“Minister von Aegir,” she says. “Do come assist the Minister of the Imperial Household, won’t you? He is wearing far too many clothes.” 

“Agreed, and it would be my pleasure, Lady Edelgard!” 

“Must you encourage him?” Hubert asks, sighing. As if he minds the idea of Ferdinand taking off his clothes in the slightest. 

Ferdinand is there behind him, his hands reaching around to undo Hubert’s shirt. He must notice Edelgard’s scars -- both the newer ones from the war, and older, far more numerous, ones from her childhood. All he says is, “Lady Edelgard -- El -- if I may pay you a compliment, you are exquisite.” 

Hubert then has the delightful experience of watching a flush climb up Edelgard’s neck from the compliment. “Thank you, Ferdinand.” She clears her throat and stares at Ferdinand’s hands, making short work of Hubert’s buttons, leaving him clad only in his trousers and an undershirt. “You are allowed to touch me, Hubert.” 

“Yes,” Ferdinand says, behind him. “You should. You are supposed to be attending to her, after all.” His hands are warm on Hubert’s skin as he pulls off the undershirt, leaving Hubert in only his trousers as he finishes helping Edelgard with her undergarments. 

He does touch her after that, fingers tracing the line of a particularly wicked -- and far too new for his comfort -- scar on her side from a lance strike. He traces over the mark, careful to note if it makes her uncomfortable. “I should have seen that one coming before you were injured.” 

“Hubert,” she chides him. “Now is  _ not  _ the time. We are here to spoil you, not chastise you. It’s war. Scars are to be expected.” 

Ferdinand laughs softly against his back, making Hubert shiver. “Do not disparage Lady Edelgard’s battle wounds. She earned her Empire by the blade and by blood, like we all did.” 

“Thank you for reminding him of that. Don’t make him do it again, Hubert.” Edelgard steps forward, so that now Hubert has Ferdinand pressed up against his back and Edelgard against his front. Hubert does not like this much attention, but he cannot deny his body certainly wishes it to continue. 

“Yes, of course, my lady. But I shall never apologize for attempting to keep you safe from harm. You have suffered enough.” 

“That is true,” she says, running her hands up his chest. “I am not in the mood to suffer. Especially not now.” She tugs him down and kisses him, sweetly, and then -- with Ferdinand pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to Hubert’s back and shoulders -- not so sweetly. 

It is not entirely easy to kiss her, with their usual height difference exacerbated by his still wearing his boots and her being barefoot. So he reaches down and settles his hands on her waist, and it is remarkable how  _ small  _ she is, yet with the power to take the world in hand and bring the Church to heel. He smiles against her mouth and lifts her, gently, to make it easier. 

Edelgard makes a small squeaking sound and puts her arms around his neck. “I had quite forgotten you could do that. It has been some time since you’ve needed to.” 

Hubert’s only ever done it when she’s injured in battle. “Easier, without you in all that armor.” 

Edelgard kisses him, slides a hand through his hair. “There is a bed, you know.” 

“I have never found bearing your weight to be any trouble, Lady Edelgard.” 

Edelgard gives a helpless laugh and presses her face into his neck and shoulder. “Would you just take me to bed, already. I am uncomfortable with how much I enjoy that you can pick me up. It is unseemly.” 

“I can pick up Hubert,” Ferdinand says, because of course he does. And he is not lying about that, either. “He reacted in much the same way.” 

“That sounds like a story,” Edelgard says, smiling a little. 

“It isn’t,” Hubert assures her, carrying her toward the bed. “He had too much wine and proceeded to do it for no actual reason other than a bet with Caspar, of which I never asked for the details.” Hubert settles her gently on the bed, then sits next to her to remove his boots. 

Ferdinand is watching them with an indulgent sort of smile. “I literally swept you off your feet, Hubert. It was  _ romantic. _ ” 

“Your word choices, as ever, mystify me.” 

Edelgard laughs. “Your verbal sniping really  _ is  _ flirting. I knew it all along.” 

Everyone is acting far too smug. Hubert finishes with his boots and socks and turns to Edelgard. She looks lovely, like firelit porcelain, her eyes wide and her smile soft. He tips her chin up and kisses her, and she kisses him back and runs her fingers once more through his hair. 

Ferdinand’s low chuckle is as warm as the fire. “I am torn between finding this sweet as a romantic opera, and as arousing as a few of those books I used to hide under my bed back at the monastery.” 

“Oh? What kind of books were those?” Edelgard asks, a little breathless, when she pulls back. 

“The sort you only look at for the etchings, if you catch my drift.” Ferdinand says. “Hubert, you are not going to please Lady Edelgard with your pants on. Allow me.” And with that, Ferdinand pushes Hubert’s knees apart and sinks elegantly between them. 

Well, Hubert could hardly expect this to go along without some sense of competition from his lady and his lover, could he? 

“Ah,” Edelgard says, watching them. “The sort that might have had this kind of etching?” When both Hubert and Ferdinand stare at her, she laughs outright. “I had different sorts of books. All thinly-veiled scenes of longing and want. Poetic language. It was most unsatisfying. I wished to know what was happening, not subject myself to endless metaphors about flowers opening and swords being polished.” 

Ferdinand, who was busy pulling Hubert’s pants off along with his undergarments, presses his face into Hubert’s thigh with a helpless laugh. It is both arousing and, though he will admit it never, cute. “Hubert, may I polish your--” 

“You may  _ not _ ,” Hubert says, pulling on his hair. “You may, however, suck my cock for my lady’s pleasure.” 

“Ah.” Lady Edelgard settles back against the pillows. Her chin tilts and she waves a hand, using the same voice she does in council. “Yes. Prime Minister, please do as Minister von Vestra suggested. Your Emperor demands it.” 

“Come now, my lady,” Hubert says, smiling a bit wickedly. “Surely  _ you _ , the Emperor of all Fodlan, the hegemon who destroyed a theocracy, can ask for what it is you want in those plain terms you so desired to read about.” 

“I changed my mind,” Edelgard says, and smiles right back at Hubert -- it’s the sort of grin he would see on her face in battles sometimes, when she knew she’d pressed the advantage and was going to win. “Minister von Vestra is being rather mouthy, Prime Minister. Perhaps you’d do your Emperor the favor of shutting him up by making him suck  _ your  _ cock.” She only blushes a little when she says it. 

“Very proud of yourself for that, aren’t you,” Hubert asks her, and she smirks at him. 

“Please, allow me to do so at once,” Ferdinand says, rising to his feet. At some point he divested himself of his own jacket and boots, but is otherwise still dressed. He gives Hubert’s shoulders a little push, sending him sprawling on his back on the bed with his feet still on the floor. Ferdinand, with all his cavalryman’s grace, climbs up and straddles Hubert’s chest. It is not an unfamiliar position, and it does afford Edelgard an excellent view. 

Ferdinand beams down at him and says, “Well, Minister? You heard the Emperor.” 

“I did,” Hubert says. “Did you? I know you abhor the thought of letting a chance to grandstand pass you by, but my mouth is bereft of your cock and your pants are still on, so perhaps you need a diagram or further instruction of how to best fulfill her instructions. I should have guessed you’d have trouble with such a simple assignment.” 

Ferdinand takes him by the hair and gives him an affectionate sort of smile, because of course he knows exactly what Hubert is doing, what he’s really asking for with his vitriol. “What impertinence.” 

“Indeed,” Lady Edelgard says. “You have my permission to discipline him for it.” 

That should in no way be as utterly, deliciously  _ arousing  _ as it is. But Hubert’s sharp intake of breath, the way his cock hardens in his pants, says otherwise. 

Ferdinand gives Hubert a searching look, then leans in and murmurs, “And are you all right with that, darling?” Asking for permission for the thing Hubert has been baiting him into doing. 

A surge of unexpected fondness swells up in Hubert’s chest at the question. Ferdinand knows how Hubert values his competency in all things in front of his emperor, and is clearly making sure this sort of play is neither unwanted nor potentially embarrassing for such an audience. 

He gives the slightest of nods to show his assent, confident it will be enough. If his lady dislikes this particular turn, he has no doubt she will let them know. And if he must endure the full assault of their amorous affections, he is going to make certain they have the correct weapons at their disposal to utterly unman him. 

After all, when Hubert does something for Edelgard, he will not settle for anything less than his best. 

“Then perhaps you should shut up and allow me to do as my emperor has bid of me,” Ferdinand says, going back to his politician’s voice. With that, he tightens his hold on Hubert’s hair with one hand and smacks Hubert sharply across the face with the other. 

Hubert  _ moans _ . He has never quite understood why it feels so good, the sharp sting of Ferdinand’s hand on his cheek, the way the impact rings and echoes in his head. He cannot explain it, but it is one of those small little pleasures he has begun to allow himself and that means, perhaps, he can simply  _ enjoy  _ it. 

Ferdinand shows no hesitation in undoing his pants or taking out his cock in front of Lady Edelgard, nor does he appear to mind at all shoving it unceremoniously between Hubert’s lips. His hair falls in bright waves over his shoulders and face, and in this position it is easy for him to fuck Hubert’s throat -- which he does, as unrestrained in his pleasure as he always is. “Ah, there we are that is -- much better, Y-your Majesty, is it not?”

“Indeed it is,” Edelgard murmurs. From the periphery of his vision, Hubert can see her touching herself, hand moving between her legs as she watches them. To know that this -- something he enjoys -- makes  _ her  _ aroused is dizzyingly wonderful. 

Ferdinand must notice, he’s fucking Hubert’s throat with abandon. Knowing the Emperor is getting herself off watching is going to make Ferdinand utterly unbearable for at least a month, if not longer. 

“Much better than metaphors,” Lady Edelgard says, her voice breathless. 

“And -- that’s it, use your tongue, darling, yes -- much better than the etchings, too,” Ferdinand pants. This position allows him to go deep, and Hubert chokes because he knows the showy dastard will like that, and he does; Ferdinand moans and his head goes back, the long muscles of his thighs tensing as Hubert runs his hands up and down them, settling on his hips and pulling him  _ closer _ . 

His lady comes first, as she should. She makes the same sounds Hubert remembers from their one night together, a soft and thrilling accompaniment to Ferdinand’s own moans of pleasure, with which Hubert is far more familiar. 

“Such a pity I never found out what else you could do with your mouth besides insult me, back at school,” Ferdinand says, fingers holding just a shade too tight in Hubert’s hair -- exactly how Hubert likes it. 

Hubert does roll his eyes. Ferdinand has said that before, and were Hubert’s mouth not occupied, he might have said something about  _ the other option would have been cast a spell to end you _ . Ferdinand must be able to sense Hubert’s retorts by this point, even the ones that are only in his head, because he gives Hubert’s face another little slap and tugs on his hair. 

“I feel as if I should be surprised at how you like rough treatment, Hubert,” Lady Edelgard says, moving so that she is on her stomach with her head near Hubert’s, propped up on one elbow. She touches the reddened skin from Ferdinand’s slap and Hubert makes a choked sound around Ferdinand’s cock. “But then I realize how novel it is, to experience pain and enjoy it for once. Keep going, Ferdinand. When you’re finished, come on his face.” 

Hubert moans, Ferdinand’s hips stutter and he makes a wordless sound of his own, and next to them both, Edelgard laughs. “Or would you prefer me to use a metaphor? Ferdinand, please rain your pleasure down upon his beloved visage, would you?” 

Ferdinand gives a choked laugh and pulls his cock out to stroke himself with quick, tight jerks of his fist. 

“My lady--” Hubert says, and his voice is wrecked from Ferdinand’s perfectly harsh use of his mouth, “--you stole that from Bernadetta’s last book.” 

“Hush, do not distract Ferdinand,” Edelgard says. With that, she slides two of her fingers in Hubert’s mouth, and as they are the fingers she used to pleasure herself, they  _ taste  _ like her. 

Ferdinand comes all over Hubert’s face; Hubert always likes that, for whatever reason that he’s never examined too closely, but it’s even better when Ferdinand does it because Lady Edelgard has instructed him to. 

Ferdinand has the remarkable ability to stay on his knees even after he comes; all that cavalry training, no doubt. But he does sit back on his heels, smirk in pleasure at seeing Hubert half-naked and messy, and pulls his hair up and off his neck. “You do look  _ wonderful  _ when you’re thoroughly debauched, Minister von Vestra.” 

He also has a remarkable ability to  _ talk  _ right after he comes, too, but that is not a surprise to anyone present. 

“You did very well, both of you. Your Emperor is quite pleased.” Edelgard holds out her hand and Ferdinand, with a thousand years of von Aegir nobility running through his veins, finds a handkerchief somewhere on his person and passes it over without a word. 

She uses it to gently clean the mess from Hubert’s face, and smiles at him when it’s finished. Her fingers trace over his mouth. Hubert puts his hands behind his head and quirks a brow at her. “You look as if you want to say something, so, say it.” 

“No.” She shakes her head. “I am just enjoying myself, that is all. Ferdinand, thank you for the show. But do take off your clothes, would you? I feel you’re overdressed.” She turns her head to watch. 

Hubert watches as well, and Ferdinand, of course, blossoms like a flower under the attention. He strips naked and Hubert can see Edelgard studying him, working something out in her mind. He has a feeling he knows what she’s thinking; Ferdinand, as lovely as he is in his Imperial finery, is something else out of it. Sleek and muscular, long-limbed, his hair framing his face in a spill of bright copper...he looks as if someone painted him. 

It’s almost ridiculous how attractive he is. Up until the moment he spreads his arms out, and announces cheerfully, “Look your fill, my lady. I worked hard for your victory, every battle honing my body to a perfect weapon!” 

“By the saints,” Hubert swears, shaking his head. “I do not know how you come up with half the things you say.” He holds his hand up as Ferdinand opens his mouth. “That was rhetorical, pray do not try and answer.” 

Edelgard gets up on her knees and shuffles over -- she’s of an even height with Ferdinand that way. Hubert is amused watching Ferdinand try and decide if he’s allowed to openly stare at her, naked and scarred and utterly perfect as she regards him with solemn intent. 

She beckons him closer and says, “Speak if you wish me to keep my hands to myself.” 

Ferdinand gives her a charming smile. “I am many things, but I am not a fool, my lady. I would not think to deny you.” 

“I am aware, but I will not use my power to force attentions you do not wish to give,” Edelgard says, carefully. 

Ferdinand extends a hand. When she places hers in his, he brushes a kiss over the back of it. “There is likely nothing you could ask of me in this situation that I would not be more than pleased to grant.” He bows again. “You needn’t worry, El. I’m quite happy to be here.” 

“I am pleased to hear it.” She gives him a warm, appreciative look and then uses their linked hands to pull him into a kiss. 

After a few moments, she pulls back from Ferdinand’s mouth and runs her hands over his shoulders, the breadth of his chest, the firm muscles sculpted by fighting in her name. 

“I am not a superficial woman by any means -- at least, I have never thought of myself as such.” She tilts her head and Hubert can just see, from his vantage point, the curve of her smile. “But I cannot in good conscience allow you to leave here without some mention of your impressive physique.” 

Ferdinand is just as eager for Edelgard’s attention and praise as Hubert, and always has been even if he’d deny it. He beams, almost glowing, and gives her a little bow. “As I said. It was all in your service. Admire it now, before years of politicking takes its toll.” 

As if that will happen; Ferdinand goes riding daily, practices with his armor and his lance, and even occasionally spars with Felix. 

“You are not seeing the best part,” Hubert offers, from his position. He lifts one hand lazily and twirls it, indicating Ferdinand should turn around. 

“Hubert!” Hands on his hips, Ferdinand raises his brows. 

“As if you do not want to show off,” Hubert huffs. 

Ferdinand opens his mouth, shrugs, then turns around. He sweeps his hair over his shoulder so his back is bare to their gaze. 

Edelgard kneels behind him and draws her hands down his back. The muscles shift under her touch. Ferdinand’s entire body is strong and capable, and while Hubert has always relied on his wits and his magic to stay alive, he cannot say he does not appreciate the sheer physical  _ strength  _ of Ferdinand’s body. 

And, of course, his ass. Hubert definitely appreciates that. 

“You have done well for yourself, Hubert,” Edelgard says, as she maps his trim waist with her hands. 

“He has his moments,” Hubert drawls. 

“I’m a catch, Hubert, I believe I have made that clear since we met.” 

“Mmm,” says Hubert. “You have said it often enough, yes.” 

“Join us on the bed,” Edelgard says, moving to lay back. “Hubert, come here beside me.” 

Hubert nods his head and stands, finishing with his boots and the trousers that Ferdinand only half divested him of. Ferdinand lays at Edelgard’s right side, his cock already beginning to stir again. 

The sight of them next to each other makes Hubert’s breath catch. He is not a man given much to fantasies, but if he were, this would be one of them. 

Before he can take his place at his lady’s left -- as is customary -- she leans up, gives Ferdinand another kiss and strokes a hand down his chest. Ferdinand returns her kiss, lifts a hand, and gently places it at her hip as if he is afraid to overstep. 

“Hmm,” she says, considering. “Hubert, is he as good with his mouth as you are?” 

“He is,” Hubert says. “Especially when he uses it to do something other than talk.” 

“Minister von Vestra, that was far too predictable a response. Do you wish me to pleasure him for you, my lady?” Ferdinand draws his fingers up Edelgard’s side and smooths her hair back. “You need but ask. He makes wonderful sounds, it’s quite something.” 

“Perhaps I wish you to use that clever mouth of yours on  _ me _ .” 

Ferdinand blinks -- and then glances over at Hubert, similar to earlier when he’d checked to make sure Hubert did not mind the smack in the face. 

“Our lady asks, you will provide,” Hubert says, settling himself on Edelgard’s left. “You will do it, and you will do so with all your considerable skill, or I will be forced to reprimand you for your failures.” 

“Quite bold words for a man upon whose face I just --” 

Edelgard shuts him up by kissing him. “As integral as I am beginning to see verbal sparring is to your relationship, less talking, please.” 

“And more...dare I say it... _unfurling_ _your flower_?” 

“Do not make me send Hubert for my axe.” She’s amused, Hubert can tell, and she gives Ferdinand one more kiss and then turns to him. “Make room for me.” 

_ Always. _ Hubert reclines back against the headboard, legs splayed, and she immediately seats herself with her back to his chest. Hubert gives a sharp inhale as she settles against his cock; it has grown hard again, watching her with Ferdinand. 

Edelgard feels it, of course, and glances over her shoulder at him. “I suppose you like this, then.” 

He inclines his head. Of course he does. Being close to her like this sets his heart racing -- and he  _ is  _ the only one of them who has not come at least once. She gives his calves a little push with her bare feet, widening his legs -- and then places hers atop of his, opening herself. It is both lovely and shockingly bold, which, Hubert should have expected of her. 

“Minister von Aegir.” She gives Ferdinand an imperious look. “Attend me.” 

Ferdinand moves so that he is lying in the space between Edelgard’s legs. Hubert knows for a fact Ferdinand has never done this with a woman; other than his experimentation with Sylvain when he was at the Academy, he has only ever been with Hubert. But he says with his usual sincerity, “I shall endeavor to make this an experience befitting of my Emperor, Lady Edelgard.” 

“I expect no less.” Edelgard leans back, then lifts her legs and drapes them on Ferdinand’s shoulders. She takes one of Hubert’s hands and brings it to her chest. “I expect you to attend to me as well, Hubert.” 

“Of course, my lady.” He sweeps her hair to the side and bends his head, mouthing at her neck and lightly stroking the curve of her breast, fingers pinching at her nipple. He remembers that she liked that, before. 

He can tell the moment Ferdinand puts his mouth on her; she gasps and wriggles a bit, which rouses Hubert’s cock and makes him shudder behind her. “Oh,” she says. “ _ Oh.  _ That silver tongue of yours is quite talented.” 

Hubert murmurs in her ear, “pull his hair while he pleasures you, my lady. He likes it.” 

She twines her hands in Ferdinand’s long hair and pulls; Ferdinand gives a muffled moan in response. Hubert reaches down and gives Ferdinand’s hair a tug for good measure. Ferdinand’s eyes roll up so he can see them; from the way his hips are rhythmically rutting against the mattress, he must be enjoying this as well. 

“He likes having his face fucked as well, my lady,” he murmurs, kissing her neck. It makes him smile to feel how she shivers in response. “Grind yourself against him, he won’t mind.” 

Ferdinand makes an eager sort of sound, and Edelgard holds his hair with both hands -- as if they are reins -- and then does as Hubert suggested and grinds herself against Ferdinand’s face. 

“That’s -- yes, very good, you’re -- very good at that,” Edelgard gasps, and Hubert wonders if she is even aware of what she’s saying. “Use your fingers, just -- just one, your hands are bigger than mine. Ah.” She stares up at Hubert again. “Do you like watching him taste me? Serve me?” 

Hubert’s voice is caught, breathless. “ _ Yes _ .” Of course he likes this. All he’s ever wanted is to bring the world to her feet, so that they may  _ all  _ serve her. He cannot deny that it is especially gratifying to see Ferdinand do so. 

She makes a little sound and twitches against him -- Hubert assumes Ferdinand must have done as bidden and put his finger inside of her. “That’s -- there, yes, don’t stop --.” 

Ferdinand does not stop, and Edelgard writhes and gasps, making incoherent sounds of pleasure as Ferdinand drives her ever closer to her peak. Hubert allows himself to say, softly against her ear, “You are beautiful, my lady,” and strokes her breasts and down, over her stomach, the muscles tense as she seeks her release. Hubert grabs the back of Ferdinand’s head, pulling him even closer to increase his lady’s pleasure. He could, he thinks, come simply from watching this. 

Edelgard comes with a wordless cry, trapped between the both of them. Hubert strokes her hair, kisses her neck, watches as she convulses against Ferdinand’s eager mouth. Her entire body bows and arches beautifully off the bed, and when she finally collapses back against Hubert, she is trembling, skin slightly damp with sweat and flushed red. But she looks relaxed, still trying to catch her breath, and Hubert likes how she rests back against him and lets him hold her as she comes down. 

Ferdinand moves and rests his head on Lady Edelgard’s thigh. Without opening her eyes, she rather inelegantly flops a hand down to pat Ferdinand on the head. It makes Hubert chuckle softly, still stroking his lady’s hair to keep it from clinging to her sweat-damp face. 

He expects Ferdinand to say something flowery or at very least in keeping with their playful tone, but he doesn’t. He is as earnest and sincere as ever when he says, “I hope my efforts were satisfactory, El. That is quite a bit different to my, ah. Experience. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.” 

“Your efforts were more than satisfactory, Ferdinand,” she says, patting at him absently again. She blinks and looks up at Hubert; her eyes look a bit like they did under the influence of the drugs, drowsy and soft. There’s something young and vulnerable in her expression that Hubert does not expect. She lifts her other hand, and her fingers tremble slightly as she strokes his face. 

Hubert presses a kiss to the top of her head. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next chapter is done and will be up in a bit, i just have to edit it :D


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized there might not be ballistas at Myrddin but like. Go with it. I honestly researched the, um, anatomical positions of the pivotal scene of this chapter to make sure it was possible, though. Priorities!

Edelgard disentangles herself and moves to sit cross-legged on the bed. She plays with Hubert’s dark hair, strokes his shoulder and rubs a thumb over his bottom lip. “I fear I’ve been selfish, when this was to be for you.” 

He takes her hand and presses a kiss to the palm. “You needn’t worry. I take pleasure in your pleasure, as you know.” Hubert watches as Ferdinand rises up on his knees in one graceful movement. He moves to Hubert’s other side, and then leans in and gives Hubert a very deep, heated kiss. 

Hubert kisses him back, distracted for a moment by a shiver of want that runs through him at tasting Edelgard on Ferdinand’s mouth, her hand still captured in his. Edelgard tugs her hand free, and Hubert gives a jolt when he feels her take hold of his cock. 

Ferdinand pulls back and looks down, smiling. “How you haven’t come yet is beyond me. I am ready for round two.” 

“Some of us have patience, von Aegir.” Hubert watches the way Lady Edelgard touches him, sure and steady. “As arousing as that is, my lady, I do recall your wish was that I prove I have not forgotten how to please you.” 

“Mm. Yes. Well, you please me the most when you do what I tell you,” she says, with an arched brow. “Also, having the  _ both  _ of you doing whatever I say is a heady feeling, you have no idea how stubborn you can both be.” 

He and Ferdinand share a look. They definitely have some idea. 

“Ferdinand, you did say you could carry Hubert?” 

“My  _ lady _ ,” Hubert protests. “I am eager to do what you wish, but I cannot see how Ferdinand carrying me anywhere is necessary.” 

Edelgard, smiling, smacks him sharply across the face. Hubert’s cock jumps and he bites back a soft moan. “It is if I say it is.” 

Ferdinand, sprawled in all his naked glory on the bed, is lightly stroking his cock while he watches them. “Do you know, I am certain I could bring myself off watching you smack him, El,” he says, cheerfully. 

“I have another idea. My point in asking is that the metaphors in those books of mine were not sufficient in describing the positioning of actual, ah, anatomy. Meaning I do not know if what I want is physically possible.” 

“You have but to tell me, and I shall find a way to make it so,” Hubert assures her. 

Ferdinand adds, “I can lift him, yes, and I, too, am sure we can find a way to make what you want a reality.” 

“You recall our night together, Hubert, when I sat astride you?” 

As if he could ever forget. “Yes, of course, my lady.” 

“I wish to do that again, only in truth, this time.” She reaches down and takes Hubert’s cock in hand once more. “Can you do the same to Ferdinand while I do that to you?” 

Ferdinand sits up as if he’s just been given marching orders. “I believe I understand what you’d like to see, and you are  _ quite  _ lucky that I am so adept a horseman. I know quite a bit about riding.” 

Edelgard gives a choked laugh and says, “I was wondering where you were going with that. Very well, I leave the arrangement up to you.” 

Hubert ascertains that she wishes to ride him while Ferdinand fucks him, and the thought of that makes him flush hot with embarrassed arousal -- embarrassment from the thought of all that attention, of being caught between them and pleasured so thoroughly, and arousal from the exact same thought. 

Ferdinand says, a bit delicately, “My lady, oil is often helpful in this situation, have you any?” 

“I -- oh, yes, one moment.” She climbs off the bed and pads over to a tall chest on the side wall near the bed.

Ferdinand takes the opportunity to lean over and kiss him, distracting Hubert. “What a lovely evening we’re having.” 

“You are, as always, a ridiculous human being.” 

“And it is quite working out in my favor,” Ferdinand murmurs against his mouth. 

Hubert turns and half-straddles him, kissing him and letting his hands slide up into the thick mass of Ferdinand’s hair. “I suppose you can be commended for your service here tonight.  _ If  _ your plan succeeds.” 

“Darling, you are not the only master tactician here! Why, recall the formation I used at Myrddin for taking the central ballista, that was nothing short of  _ genius _ .” 

“Hush,” Lady Edelgard orders, rejoining them on the bed. She presents the oil to Ferdinand. “As it happens, Ferdinand, that  _ was  _ a very clever maneuver, but you might have been a bit better off if you’ve moved your battalion up the left flank and sent an archer under cover of distraction.” 

Ferdinand takes the oil, but he narrows his eyes. “What? That would have been dreadful! The archers positioned on the balustrades would have made short work of any unit foolish enough to break off from the protective shell of the armored knights.” 

“Give me that,” Hubert interrupts, snatching the oil nimbly from Ferdinand. He slicks up his own fingers and sets himself to applying it to Ferdinand’s cock, then reaches behind himself to prepare. “And you’re both wrong, the battalion should have gone up the right and you should have sent a mage with a long-range fire spell to burn the ballista.” 

“Not everything can be a sneak attack, von Vestra,” Ferdinand says, a bit huffily. 

“Of course it can, if you have the proper resources.” 

“Please,” Lady Edelgard says, shaking her head with a fond smile at them both. “I’d prefer the metaphors to battle-talk.” 

“I am very good at those, too!” 

“Bernadetta is better,” Hubert says, just to be contrary. The truth is, they are  _ both  _ awful. Bernadetta’s books are pure drivel. He has two copies of each. Signed by the author herself, in fact. But that does not change the fact they are terrible. 

“Just like she would have been in that plan at Myrddin with the ballista,” Edelgard adds, smugly. She takes up the oil herself and pouring a portion into her hands, rubbing them together to warm it before she takes Hubert’s cock in both her hands. 

That definitely drives thoughts of battle plans, metaphors, Countess Varley and her books, and anything  _ else  _ out of Hubert’s head immediately. 

It does take a bit of shifting about to make it work, with Ferdinand almost reclining against the headboard, legs stretched out in front of him. The position is new for them, and Hubert has to grudgingly admit that Ferdinand was clever to think of it. He is strong enough to hold Hubert’s hips steady as he gets himself into position, though Hubert is not having an entirely easy time of it; it feels a bit unbalanced and out of control in a way he does not like. 

“Relax, darling,” Ferdinand murmurs, breathing hard, the tip of his cock just past the tight ring of muscle. “Lady Edelgard, you may be of some assistance here, if you would?” 

“Certainly.” She is watching them with wide-eyed interest, though at Ferdinand’s words she moves quickly enough and wraps her hand around Hubert’s cock. “Take him for me, Hubert. All the way.” 

The words and her hand on him helps, and soon he is as settled as he can be, Ferdinand’s cock inside him, his back to Ferdinand’s chest. “This is not uncomfortable for you?” he asks Ferdinand, still oddly unsettled at lying this way on top of someone. Perhaps because it is new. 

“ _ Uncomfortable _ is not the word I would use, no,” Ferdinand gasps, behind him. “Darling, you feel as wonderful as you always do. So tight for me.” 

Ferdinand says this sort of thing in bed all the time. Hubert’s face heats at him saying it in front of Lady Edelgard. Ferdinand, because he  _ is  _ a clever tactician despite that nonsense with the ballistas, laughs softly and murmurs in Hubert’s ear, “Look how splayed out you are for us, Hubert, it’s  _ indecent _ .” 

Hubert flails a hand back, attempting to -- do something, perhaps cast a spell, if only  _ silence  _ worked on mouthy cavalrymen -- but Ferdinand shifts beneath him and tightens his hands on Hubert’s hips and  _ moves _ , thrusting up into him and all that happens is Hubert nearly loses his balance and moans, louder than he might have were he not worried about falling over. 

It  _ is  _ indecent, this position. And vulnerable. When Ferdinand has had him on his back before -- which he has -- at least Ferdinand was always on  _ top  _ of him; a warm, muscular, bright-haired shield fucking Hubert senseless. Even Lady Edelgard, that night they spent together, had sat on top of him. Anchoring him. 

This is...unanchored. Open and vulnerable. And despite Ferdinand’s physical strength, Hubert finds he cannot let himself relax fully back against him. 

“Lean back,” Ferdinand says, voice tight with pleasure. “I can take your weight, Hubert. Let me. It will feel so good, darling. Let me take you.” 

Hubert would protest this, but Ferdinand moves his hips and slowly fucks into him, his cock sliding perfectly over his prostate and making shocks of pleasure hit at the base of his spine and light up his nerves. He leans back even more, not quite resting all his weight but enough to take the strain off his arms from trying to hold himself up. 

“Now -- ah, El, you should be able to mount him,” Ferdinand instructs, fucking Hubert from beneath and it’s sign of how lost he is to his own pleasure that he just says it outright, lacking any metaphors or double-entendres. 

“I do not wish to hurt you,” Edelgard says to Hubert, kneeling beside the two of them. She looks a bit uncertain, chewing briefly on her bottom lip. “I am not as light as my stature might suggest.” 

“I -- have said before,” Hubert gasps, as a particularly hard thrust makes him see stars, “that I do not find your weight a burden.” 

“Well, you will speak up if it is too much -- both of you.” Edelgard places a hand on Hubert’s chest, and swings a leg over him to sit astride him. Her sex is warm and wet against his cock, and  _ that,  _ he remembers very well indeed. 

Caught up in the moment and the very intense physical pleasure of having Ferdinand hard inside of him and Edelgard naked atop him, Hubert says without thinking, “You shall never be too much for me. Either of you,” he adds, because it is true. 

Edelgard smiles and leans in, her hair falling around them both as she kisses him. “And we will always be grateful, Hubert. Won’t we, Ferdinand?” 

“Of course,” Ferdinand says, beneath him. “I keep telling you to relax, darling, and let me -- ah,  _ Goddess  _ that feels good -- let me take your weight. You are not too much for  _ me _ , either. You  _ and  _ Lady Edelgard, both. I am strong enough, I swear it.” 

“You’re both often too much for me, but that’s why I shall always have my own room,” Edelgard says, clearly teasing. “Do as he says and relax. Let us take care of you, my dear friend. You have born our weight time and time again -- now let us do the same for you.” 

Ferdinand bucks his hips again, and he really  _ is  _ absurdly strong that he can do that with Hubert almost reclining entirely on top of him and Lady Edelgard on Hubert’s lap. “Stop fighting, my love. There is no one you can trust more than us.” 

This is perhaps getting a bit too  _ emotional _ for Hubert to want to handle at the moment, so he makes the wise choice and does as bidden. He relaxes back, all of his weight settled on top of Ferdinand and Edelgard on top of him. It is certainly a lot, too much perhaps, but Ferdinand just gives a breathy moan and lifts his hips with no apparent constraint  _ or  _ complaint. 

Hubert’s attention is caught by Edelgard, who has taken his cock in hand and is moving to take him inside of her. She smiles at him. “You will have me not atop a throne of ruin, but the Adrestian Prime Minister.” 

Ferdinand gives a choked laugh beneath him. “My  _ lady _ . Now is hardly the time for -- for jokes.” 

“It is not a joke, but an observation. Hubert, are you quite ready to deflower me?” Edelgard begins to sink down on top of him, his cock sliding easily inside her tight, wet heat. 

Hubert shudders and gasps out, “Slowly, my lady, do not hurt yourself,” grabbing her hips with his hands to keep her pace steady and slow. 

“It does not hurt,” Edelgard assures him, her head going back. She shivers, her muscles tightening deliciously around him. “I have practiced, why do you think I had the oil near the bed?” 

Hubert files that away for later, unable to do anything much but gasp until she is seated on him in full and he is buried to the hilt inside of her. 

There was one battle where Hubert was struck by an enemy spell, a miasma that made it hard for him to breathe and felt as if he were being pulled apart and crushed into nothing all at once. It lasted for what felt like an eternity, though Linhardt was near and able to cast Restore quickly enough. 

This feels a bit like that, and the fact it is all pleasure instead of pain does not make it any less overwhelming. 

Edelgard shifts a bit and leans forward, so she can press her palms to the headboard for leverage. She begins to move on top of him, much as she did that day long ago, but this time there is nothing between them; no Church of Seiros, no long and uncertain war, no kingdom army, no monsters in the dark. They  _ won _ . 

“That feels so  _ good _ ,” Edelgard gasps, as if surprised. Her face is flushed and she is fucking herself on his cock with unpracticed but eager motions, while beneath him, Ferdinand is a strong and steady presence, relentless as he drives his cock inside Hubert with sharp thrusts of his hips. 

It does feel good, it’s more than Hubert can stand -- he holds on to Edelgard’s hips and moves with her, pushing up into her as Ferdinand does the same to him. In this one perfect moment, Hubert can say with absolute certainty that he is  _ happy.  _ It was all worth it, every second, every scar, every terrible nightmare, every worry, everything, all of it. It isn’t just the pleasure of having them both, taking and being taken, but being  _ here _ , with them. 

“I,” he gasps, as they find a rhythm, “I would -- do it all again for you,” he breathes, and drops one hand to touch the outside of Ferdinand’s thigh. “Edelgard. Ferdinand.  _ Both _ of you.” 

Edelgard kisses him with sweet, desperate hunger, slick and wet on top of him. Beneath him, Ferdinand is fucking him hard enough that the bed is bouncing. It is Ferdinand that comes first, grabbing desperately at Hubert’s hips and holding still as he grinds his cock inside of him. He comes with a shout, and Hubert thinks in a haze of lust and desire that it’s the loudest he’s ever been, and that is fitting. 

“Hubert -- I want -- show me how you would have fucked me on that bitch’s throne,” Edelgard says, staring down at him. Her words are harsh, her eyes glittering, she is a warrior and she is  _ magnificent.  _ She lifts her hand and strokes his face, gentle and sweet where her words are anything but. “Take me like we took all of Fodlan. Show no mercy.” 

Hubert, lacking any and all grace, somehow manages to lift up and off Ferdinand -- he thinks, hazily, that Ferdinand is helping him -- and turns, tumbling Edelgard back against the bed in haste. His cock aches and he can barely think as he pushes her beneath him, feels her legs wrap tight around his waist as he slides back inside of her. Hubert buries his face in the space between her neck and shoulder and  _ fucks  _ her, hard and fast, too overcome to do anything but make it as rough and brutal as she wanted. 

He showed no mercy in the war helping her achieve her goals, and he shows no mercy, now, fucking her into the mattress while her breath escapes in short little cries. Her nails dig into his shoulders, scour down his back. 

“Yes, yes,” he breathes, lost to it, the pleasure of taking her because  _ he earned it _ , the pain from her nails her sharp teeth as she sinks them into his shoulder while he fucks her. 

Edelgard grabs one of his hands, which she shoves between her legs -- he doesn’t get her off as much as she uses his fingers to do it herself, but either way, it isn’t long before he feels her tighten around him in delicious spasms as she comes on his cock. Hubert is past words and past being able to hold himself back, and he drives so hard inside of her that the headboard slams against the wall as he comes, shuddering and gasping with his face buried in her hair. 

Gradually, he comes back to himself to the feel of her hands rubbing up and down his back, her breasts pressed against his chest, her body -- like his -- slick with sweat. They are both trembling. When he pulls back and looks at her, she looks as disheveled as if she really was in battle. 

Hubert touches the side of her face, words he still isn’t sure he can say caught in his throat. To say them seems selfish, somehow. As if it is a burden he does not wish to place upon her; she, who has already borne so much. With the hardest of it all yet to come. 

Edelgard trembles a smile at him. “I know,” she says, softly. 

Hubert presses his forehead to hers. “El,” he says, quietly, trying it out. 

She laughs a bit, rubbing at his shoulders. “I am not calling you Hubie.” 

He winces at the reminder of that nickname, given to him by Dorothea. “Please, do not.” Hubert kisses her, then gently pulls out and moves to lie next to her. 

Ferdinand, having pulled on a pair of paints and with his hair piled up in a topknot that would put Felix Fraldarius’s to shame for sheer sloppiness, returning with a goblet of water and a cool wet towel. He beams at both of them. “I feel as if I have seen the culmination of years of mutual pining.” 

“That’s how I felt watching you two,” Edelgard says, accepting the water and drinking it gratefully as Hubert takes the towel and attends to cleaning her. “Hubert and I were never pining, we were just busy.” 

Ferdinand stares at them, the knot of his hair lilting comically to the left. “I am constantly amazed by you both in so many ways, and yet. You are both as dense as iron when it comes to the obviousness of your feelings. Pray do not shy away from them on my behalf. The world is better when we tell the people we love that we love them.” 

“Lady Edelgard knows precisely how I feel about her,” Hubert huffs. 

“We are not all as gifted with words as you, Prime Minister,” Edelgard adds, just as huffily. 

“Nonsense, I have heard you on the battlefield, Lady Edelgard. You inspired us all to fight for a world in which our strengths paved our path, not our bloodlines or a false goddess who ruled through subjugation and fear. Hubert, your words are poison-tipped and vicious when they must be, but that means they can  _ also  _ be sweet -- yes, do not glare so, for I have heard the things you say sometimes, when you think I am asleep.” Ferdinand’s chin raises, his arms crossed over his bare chest. “If we cannot admit our deepest affections and speak of the love we have for each other, what was even the point of it all?” 

“I suppose there is some truth to that,” Edelgard says, slowly. “I am not given to tender emotions, nor am I used to them. I have always known my path would be blood-soaked and painful. I did not expect love or affection or friendship to be anything but a distraction.” She smiles a little sadly. “How wrong I was. I can admit that, if nothing else.” 

Hubert takes her hand and kisses it. He’s not entirely sure that she _is_ wrong, that all of this wouldn’t have been a distraction, back before they won the war. “I would think the objects of my affection know very well how I feel about them.” 

“Yes, I daresay we  _ do _ , but that is not the point.” Ferdinand shakes his head, though he’s smiling. “There is a difference, darling, between operating from the shadows and  _ hiding  _ there. Honestly, the two of you remind me of characters from Bernadetta’s novels. Tragic gothic heroes, the both of you.” He sounds very fond. 

Edelgard climbs out of bed, walking naked to her vanity where she shrugs on a simple silk robe draped over the chair. She takes a look at herself in her mirror and says, “There is no mystery as to what I got up to, this evening.” 

Hubert recovers his trousers and pulls them on, along with his socks and boots -- Ferdinand is also in his boots, a soldier’s instinct to be ever-ready to  _ go _ . “Yes, well.” He sees himself in the mirror, hair tousled and chest and back bright red from Lady Edelgard’s nails. He touches one of the sharp lines, already fading, and feels an echo of pleasure as he remembers her tearing at him in pleasure. 

He is, however, also very sticky. In  _ places.  _ “We likely all could use a bath.” 

“I do not know if that would be ideal, Hubert. I might need a strong draft of noa fruit extract if you wish any further performances from me this evening.” Ferdinand bows. His hair knot trembles on top of his head. It is actually  _ worse  _ than Felix’s. 

“I did actually mean  _ just  _ a bath, Ferdinand.” 

“Noa fruit extract?” Edelgard blinks at them both, wordlessly handing a silver-handled brush to Hubert. “What is that?” 

“It is said to have rousing properties when it comes to a man’s ability to maintain an erection,” Hubert says, pulling the brush through Lady Edelgard’s hair. She fusses and shifts -- she never has liked to have her hair brushed -- and he settles her with a hand on her shoulder. “Stay still and it will go faster.” 

“Does it work?” 

“Yes, it is easier to brush when you aren’t wriggling about, so,” says Hubert. 

“Dreadful man, I meant the noa fruit extract.”

Hubert meets Edelgard’s expression in the mirror, pausing with the brush raised. “My lady, do you have  _ complaints  _ about this evening? I am quite sure you surpassed us all in number of orgasms, you’ll forgive me if I’m a bit insulted at this slight on our performance.”

“Honestly, El, we really did truly do our best for you.” Ferdinand gives a dramatic sigh. “I cannot bear to think you are disappointed.” 

“Oh, stop it, the both of you. I am only asking out of prurient curiosity and vague plans for revenge. Does it work?” 

Ferdinand shrugs. “I have never taken it, but Sylvain did.” 

“What a surprise,” Hubert drawls, resuming brushing Edelgard’s hair. “Is there some substance he will  _ not  _ try, if challenged?” 

“He must enjoy dangerous, difficult, potentially poisonous things, else he would not be with Fraldarius,” Ferdinand says. 

Edelgard gives an inelegant snort. “One cannot argue with that.” 

“At any rate, he said it did indeed cause, ah, extreme physical arousal but not, how shall I say this delicately...there was no  _ culmination _ , if you take my meaning.” 

“I think given the evening we have shared, you could just say it plainly, Ferdinand,” Edelgard says, rolling her eyes in the mirror. 

“Very well. It caused an erection that lasted for some time, and an urge to put it to good use, but that despite the potential it simply took him too long to come. Apparently they were at it so long, Fraldarius threatened to eviscerate him if he even so much  _ glanced  _ at a Noa fruit in his presence, much less take the extract oil from it. Though I do recall that was the one time I was able to best Felix at swords, he was a bit too bow-legged for that intricate footwork he fancies.” 

“So,” Edelgard asks, thoughtfully. “One might say that this extract, it causes the sword to not fit in the scabbard?” 

Ferdinand considers this. “A good attempt, but that would, I imagine, suggest more than Sylvain’s sword was too, ah. Mighty to fit in Felix’s...scabbard.” 

Edelgard’s hand covers her mouth. Her shoulders shake a bit. 

Undaunted as ever, Ferdinand continues. “One can polish it but it never comes clean?” He frowns. “No, no, that’s...more about personal hygiene, isn’t it, that’s hardly sexy.” 

Hubert presses his forehand to his face. “May the void take me. Why do we need a metaphor, when we’ve already spoken about what it does?” 

“Perhaps I have a plan,” she says. “That requires more subtlety.” 

“Far be it from me to impugn you and Ferdinand’s attempts at poetic prowess, but  _ his sword was too big for the scabbard _ is hardly subtle wordplay.” 

“All right, Mr. I Exist In the Subtlety Of the Shadows,” Ferdinand says. “You come up with one.” 

Sighing, Hubert begins to braid Lady Edelgard’s hair. “Swords are designed to kill. The metaphor you want might be  _ the sword strikes but never draws blood _ .” 

Ferdinand makes a face at him. “That is a  _ terrible _ metaphor, Hubert.” 

“Rather dreadful,” Edelgard agrees. “Do you know where he obtained it?” 

“I can ask, but you  _ do  _ realize he will assume that Hubert and I are in need of sexual enhancements, yes?” 

“I am willing to take that risk,” Edelgard says, dryly. 

“Hubert?” Ferdinand asks.

Hubert shrugs. “Let him think whatever he wants, but so we are clear, if anyone drugs me without my permission I shall be  _ most  _ displeased, do you both understand that?” 

“Ironic, coming from you,” Edelgard murmurs. 

In response, Hubert gives her hair a sharp tug. “I poison people to kill them, not deny them sexual gratification.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say those two things were mutually exclusive, Hubert.” Ferdinand flashes a smile at him. "I rather say you're denying them a lot, when you poison them." 

“I do not intend to give you -- either of you -- the noa extract.” Edelgard gives Hubert a nod. “Thank you for braiding my hair. Your turn, Ferdinand. Please do something about whatever that is on top of your head.” 

Ferdinand bounds over and takes her place in front of the mirror. Hubert is in a relaxed enough mood to undo his top knot and brush Ferdinand’s hair without a word of protest -- he’s not gentle, but unlike Lady Edelgard, Ferdinand  _ likes  _ having his hair pulled. 

“You can dip your rag in the polish but the sword never comes clean? No, no, that’s also terrible.” Lady Edelgard yawns, watching Hubert as he  _ also  _ braids Ferdinand’s hair. “I’ve never been one for swordplay, either participating or studying it.” 

Hubert, despite himself, snorts. “This evening rather says otherwise, my lady.” 

“Hubert von  _ Vestra _ !” 

Ferdinand laughs. “Gracious. I cannot believe you said that. A testament to what a good mood you are in.” He yawns, too, and moves away from Hubert to stand before Edelgard. “May I give my Emperor a good night kiss?” 

“You may,” she says, and laughs a bit as Ferdinand lifts her bodily and presses a kiss to her mouth. “Thank you for tonight. I enjoyed myself.” 

“As did I, and you have my thanks in return.” Ferdinand bows, then gathers up his clothes and heads back into the sitting room with the abandoned hookah. 

Edelgard watches as Hubert shrugs back into his boots and his shirt, gathering up the rest of his clothes. “I hope you know that it wasn’t von Riegan’s drugs that made me want that,” she says, stepping close and placing a hand on his chest. “I would not wish you to think that I needed some intoxicant to want you. Perhaps Ferdinand is right, and I...well, there are many things I must figure out, in the days to come. Things I have pushed aside for years. But you, and that I care for you...that has never faltered, nor has it changed. But I am happy for you and Ferdinand, and it is not my intention to cause any issues between you.” 

Hubert’s face goes hot, which seems remarkable after the entirety of the evening they’ve spent together. “I know that. You will not. I have always been yours, my lady. My body, my magic, my devotion, and -- my heart.” Pausing, he tips her chin up and looks down at her face, seeing not the Emperor but just  _ her.  _ Edelgard. El. Perhaps Ferdinand is right and there can be some allowances made toward walking in the light, even for a man such as him. “I do love you. You must know that I always have.” 

She makes a soft little sound and smiles, then slides in and wraps her arms around his waist, hugging him tight. She presses her face against his chest, and squeezes. “Yes. And I love you, too.” 

And he knew that, didn’t he? “I -- thank you.” His words feel clumsy. He runs a hand over her braid, then hugs her back. “I daresay I shall never be good at this part.” 

“Me, neither,” she says, against his chest. “We’ll let Ferdinand do all the talking.” 

“Be careful lest he hear you and think that is permission.” Hubert smiles a little when she pulls back. “You should try and get some sleep, my lady. The day will not care that we were up too late carousing, and there are meetings of importance to attend tomorrow.” 

“Carousing.” She shakes her head. “I suppose you are right. Go on, and do thank Ferdinand again for me.” 

“All right, but only once. He shall become insufferable if I keep doing it.” 

“ _ Become _ insufferable?” 

A cry, from the other room. “I heard that!” 

They share a smile, and Hubert bows low, his hand over his heart, and then takes his leave. 

Ferdinand waits for him in the other room, and together, they leave Her Majesty’s chambers. Outside, the sky lightens with the dawn. He is still a creature of the dark and always will be, but now he has Ferdinand and Edelgard both, twin stars there to keep him company. There is nothing he could ever want, more than that. A quiet personal victory, but a victory all the same. 

“Aha!” Ferdinand says, suddenly, breaking the silence. He raises his fist in triumph. “A dull sword that cannot sharpen no matter how long you hold it to the whetstone!” 

Hubert sighs. 

***

_ Claude,  _

_ Thank you for your kind gift of friendship that you included along with the delegation last month. As I am committed to peaceful relations between Fodlan and Almyra, I did partake of the hookah to show my dedication to the preservation of our newly-signed treaty. While I cannot say I am necessarily fond of smoking, the blend was pleasant and tasted a bit like the spice cake I enjoyed as a child. I slept quite well indeed. I have placed the hookah in our reception hall, so that others may see the gift given in friendship from the King of Almyra.  _

_ You’ll forgive me, I’m sure, for not keeping it in my private residence. I have seen quite enough of dragons.  _

_ We of the Adrestian Empire have our own traditions for celebrating alliances, one of which is responding in kind to a gift sincerely given. Therefore, please accept this priceless fruit extract, which is renowned in Adrestia for adding sweetness to bitter wine or teas. It is intended to show your desire to achieve a satisfactory resolution to potentially fraught discussions with others, no matter how long it might take to come to an agreement. Please see this as our dedication to work tirelessly with both yourself and the people of Almyra on a long and fruitful relationship.  _

_ I would advise trying a bit in your tea. I am told it goes a long way in sweetening the occasional bitterness of Almyran blends.  _

_ I dare you.  _

_ Edelgard  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Claude receives this note, laughs and says, "Who do you think gave Sylvain that extract? Amateurs." But he's impressed with her attempt and he puts it in his tea, because Claude. 
> 
> Also look Ferdinand has _really good core strength_ don't at me. 
> 
> Thank you for reading this long story that is basically my self-indulgent excuse to write loyalty porn and banter, what. And me wandering around my house going, "How can I make a sword joke about priapism" because that is who I am as a person I guess. 
> 
> PLS come yell about this game with me [on twitter!](https://twitter.com/dustofwarfare)

**Author's Note:**

> Claude von Riegan, instigator, causing trouble for his former classmates all the way from Almyra. 
> 
> The Edelgard/Claude is because of that flirty scene in Derdriu where they tell how each other how attractive they are before Edelgard could, y'know, kill him. This game was literally made in a lab for me, I swear (even though, obviously, Edelgard chose to spare him in this one).


End file.
